


When the Day met the Night

by redasrevolution



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Horror Movie Enthusiasts, Love at First Sight, Montparnasse is pretentious and he knows it, Movie Dates, Non-Binary Jean Prouvaire, Other, Romance, Semi-Christmas themed, foster brother Feuilly, it still takes them forever to admit how they feel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-01
Updated: 2021-02-04
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:07:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 27,865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21631933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redasrevolution/pseuds/redasrevolution
Summary: “So, I’m curious, how do you know Jehan?”Under normal circumstances, he wouldn’t have answered that question, but he was tired, dizzy and all of this seemed so surreal that he really didn’t care anymore at this point. “We enjoy the same kind of movies.”“Those creepy old horror movies? Really? I would have thought you had better taste.”Or: Montparnasse and Jehan meet at an old movie theatre, bond over their shared love of horror movies and develop a friendship that could be way more. If, and only if, one of them has the guts to admit how they really feel. Featuring found families, a lot of poetry talk and Montparnasse not nearly being as annoyed with the people surrounding him as he pretends to be.
Relationships: Babet/Claquesous (Les Misérables), Cosette Fauchelevent/Éponine Thénardier, Enjolras/Grantaire (Les Misérables), Minor or Background Relationship(s), Montparnasse/Jean Prouvaire
Comments: 24
Kudos: 34





	1. Just like in the movies

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this a while back after stumbling upon [this](https://just-french-me-up.tumblr.com/post/158040376958/jehan-and-montparnasse-go-on-the-strangest-dates) post on tumblr. I'm quite nervous to finally post this fic but I really hope you enjoy it!

At the edge of town, right before the cramped, tourist filled part of Paris melted into the hidden treasures only inhabitants knew about, there was a tiny movie theatre. Montparnasse had discovered it a few years back while trying to get away from an especially persistent police officer. He just sort of stumbled upon it and somehow kept coming back. It was one of those ancient, rare theatres that only showed old, foreign movies. Montparnasse just happened to be one of the few people who got a thrill out of cinematography. Every Thursday was devoted to horror movies which weren’t necessarily scary, considering their age and the limited possibilities of special effects, but were actually rather hilarious. Montparnasse loved them nevertheless. 

What Montparnasse appreciated the most about this movie theatre though, was that they always showed the original version of every movie with subtitles. Call him pretentious, but he just couldn’t bare the mere thought of any kind of attempt in synchronization. It normally took away the raw emotion the original captured.

Tonight though, all of that wouldn’t matter, he thought while waiting for the dim lights to fully go out and the streaming of Nosferatu, eine Symphonie des Grauens, a German silent film, to start. He had arrived a little too early tonight but he knew there weren’t really more people coming anyway. How they managed to still keep this business running was beyond him. Beside him there were only two other people in the small room. A young woman dressed in an all-black exterior and the old man in the first row who somehow just always appeared to be there.

He was just about to lose interest in his surroundings when somebody stumbled into the room who didn’t seem to fit into this setting at all. Montparnasse couldn’t make out the features of said person due to the bad lightning but even in this badly lit room he could see their long red hair basically glowing. He briefly wondered just how radiant it had to look in direct sunlight, when his eyes dropped to their clothes or what was at least an attempt at clothes. The knitted sweater on their body was at least two sizes too big and had so many different colors webbed into it that Montparnasse wondered if the person making this god forsaken pullover had actually been blind. Paired with the sweater they wore pants with a flower print that were just all kinds of trippy and bright yellow boots. Somewhere in the back of his mind, something practically screamed at him that they looked hideous. The problem was just that they really didn’t. They were beautiful and right there, they looked so out of place that Montparnasse wondered if he had fallen asleep or walked straight through a portal into a different dimension. He was sure he looked at a faerie or a different kind of mythical creature, because this kind of beauty in front of him just couldn’t possibly be from this world.

Montparnasse loved beautiful things. No matter if it was his clothes, his jewelry or even his liquor. He cherished everything that was exquisite and expensive and he knew this faerie would cost him dearly.

When they started to move it was with an elegance that you wouldn’t have expected from their appearance. Montparnasse was so lulled into watching them sway their hips ever so slightly with each step they took that he didn’t realize they were moving towards him until he found himself locking his eyes with theirs. Standing in front of him now, Montparnasse could see their gentle features. Their high cheekbones, thousands of freckles that graced their pale face and the warmest brown eyes he had ever seen, made them appear even more like out of this world. Though he could have expected it, he was still surprised when they suddenly addressed him.

“Is that seat taken?” they asked while pointing next to him. Their voice was soft and melodic and it immediately sent a shiver down his spine. This was dangerous. 

When he noticed that he had simply stared at them without giving an answer, he forced himself out of his trancelike state.

“Suit yourself,” he finally answered in what he hoped was an unaffected tone.

They gracefully sat down next to him and Montparnasse was instantly aware that there were only a few inches between them now. He could have simply reached over, let his fingertips graze their skin to see if it was actually as soft as it looked. Slowly he shook his head in an attempt to get a grip on himself again. In no way was it possible for him to get this confused over a stranger.

“Jehan.” It was spoken as softly as a whisper. He would have almost missed it. Almost.

“Pardon?”

“Jehan. Jehan Prouvaire. My name,” they repeated. A little louder this time but still in the same melodic way. Jehan. A beautiful name for a beautiful person. He wondered what it would feel like letting it roll off of his tongue. Yet all he settled for was a short “Pleasure.” 

He cursed himself inwardly. He never was this graceless when it came to situations like these. When he wanted to be, he could be rather smooth. Tonight though, it seemed like he was going to be unlucky, because he really just fucked this up royally. Jehan however seemed to be unfazed by his stony behavior.

“And what’s your name?”

“Montparnasse.” Goddammit he really had to stop giving these laconic answers. Yet again Jehan didn’t seem to mind however. Montparnasse was pretty sure he could even see the beginning of a smile tug at their lips. Okay, he had to be clever about this now.

“I’ve never seen you around here before.” Yeah, wow, okay real clever. Where exactly went his charisma and how the hell could he get it back?

“Well I only recently found out about this place when my friend Combeferre mentioned it to me. He thought I might enjoy it. It’s really beautiful, don’t you think?”

‘Beautiful’ wasn’t quite the word Montparnasse would have gone with. It was dark, old and dusty, but it definitely had character. He couldn’t deny that. After all he was the one who came here every week. Before he could answer though, Jehan spoke again.

“I know what you are thinking. What is a person like them doing in a place like this?” They were properly smiling now, finding that thought apparently particularly amusing, “I get that a lot though, so don’t worry.”

It was true. The second Jehan had walked through the door, they seemed completely out of place, but right now sitting next to him, illuminated only by the dim lights around them, he couldn’t picture them anywhere else.

“Well, I definitely wouldn’t have taken you for a German expressionist horror movie kind of person, but then again I wouldn’t have pictured the guy in the first row being into that kind of stuff either.”

That actually made them giggle, a sound Montparnasse would have given anything for just to hear it again. Still smiling they answered in a hushed voice “He does seem kind of out of it.”

“Kind of? I’m pretty sure he hasn’t moved from that spot since last week.” Again they giggled and Montparnasse was pretty sure he could get addicted to that sound.

“So, have you seen Nosferatu before?” The look they gave him couldn’t be described as anything but pure and utter shock.

“Of course! It’s a classic! Is there anyone out there who hasn’t seen it?” They sounded almost offended and with the level of disbelief in their voice, Montparnasse just couldn’t help himself. He laughed. It was short, not much more than a snort really, but it made Jehan practically beam at him.

Montparnasse hadn’t really noticed how much time had passed, but when the lights suddenly went out, he was almost disappointed. It was a good thing that he practically knew the movie by heart because he couldn’t seem to focus on a single thing that happened on screen. His focus was entirely on Jehan, even though he was careful not to stare too much. They were completely still while watching the movie. Nothing besides an occasional smile indicated that they had any feelings towards the movie at all. Sooner than he would have wanted, the end credits were rolling and he found himself dreading the moment he would have to part from the redhead next to him. 

Before he could even think of something to say, Jehan spoke again with a steady but slightly melancholic voice “It mattering not how beautiful you were or how beloved above all else that dies.”

“Pardon me?”

Jehan seemed startled for a second, as if they forgot that they weren’t alone and just now came out of the trance like state the movie had put them in. When they turned their head to look at him, Montparnasse had to suppress a shiver that almost erupted because of a single look from their deep brown eyes.

“It’s just something that popped in my head after the last scene. Ellen’s fate is truly tragic, don’t you think?

“Well yeah, but at least her sacrifice wasn’t for nothing. She died with the knowledge that it would save her loved ones and that is worth something, right?”

“I guess.” It looked like they wanted to add something to that, but apparently decided against it when they suddenly stood up. Right, Montparnasse thought, the movie was over. He should probably get up too, leave and let this encounter remain what it was, a beautiful but past memory.

“It was truly a pleasure to meet you Jehan.” And there it was. Their name rolling off of his tongue. Easy and already painfully familiar. He hadn’t meant to say it out loud, didn’t want to make this dreamlike encounter to feel even more real. Jehan smiled again and if somebody would have told him at this moment that the world had stopped turning, he would have believed them without an inkling of hesitance. He really had to go, otherwise, he knew, he couldn’t guarantee for anything.

“You too Montparnasse.” And with a last smile, they turned around, heading for the exit and Montparnasse was left to wonder if this truly had happened right now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so originally this was only supposed to be a short oneshot but then my brain went "but what if..." and well, what can I say? I'm now about 20k words into my first draft, so you're in for a ride.
> 
> The line Jehan recites at the end of the movie is from Edna St. Vincent Millay's “And you as well must die” that you can find [here](https://www.sandiegoreader.com/news/2011/dec/07/poetry-and-you-well-must-die/) .
> 
> English is not my first language, so if you find any mistakes, feel free to correct me. If you want, you can also come talk to me on [tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/redasrevolution) ! Hope you enjoyed and hopefully until next time!


	2. Infinitely ordinary

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go! Chapter 2 with an insight into Montparnasse's daily life. Hope you enjoy.

If you asked Montparnasse, Fridays were the worst. If you were like most people Fridays meant the weekend being close, time to see your friends and family or going out partying in some club and finally being able to let loose. If you were like Montparnasse however, it meant you owned one of these clubs and Fridays were suddenly you’re busiest working nights. 

Montparnasse knew he couldn’t complain. He didn’t start working properly until 5 pm, he was lucky enough to run a club that was actually doing pretty well, which resulted in him making a shit ton of money and it wasn’t like he didn’t enjoy his job. On the contrary, running this club meant he was partying more than any of his employees and being his own boss in general was pretty fucking great. There was no one telling him how to do his job, or that he was too late. Unfortunately, though that also meant he was the one who had to take care of everything behind the scenes. 

Sometimes that meant making sure Claquesous wasn’t sitting in a corner brooding over his life choices or having another artistic crisis and was feeling well enough to go on stage. Sometimes it meant helping Gueulemer dealing with an awfully persistent clubber that just didn’t understand that they had a guest list for a reason. And sometimes it meant finding out if there was a police raid planned so he wouldn’t have to fear his club being shut down and Brujon being able to proceed to hand out less legal substances.

Tonight however, he had to deal with a completely different problem. Babet had approached him a few moments ago to tell him that their alcohol delivery was yet to be awaited. This was new and very unpleasant, especially for a Friday night. Besides that, Feuilly had never been late in his entire life. After all that was one of the reasons Montparnasse had hired him in the first place. And maybe also because he was actually one of the only people from his former foster families that he didn’t completely loath. Not that he would ever admit that out loud.

Babet apparently wasn’t able to get a hold of the man, so Montparnasse tried calling him two times before giving up and leaving him a not-so-kind voicemail “You’re better lying dead on a sidewalk right now, because help me god if you don’t have a legit reason for not standing in my club right now!” 

Only a few moments later though he received a short message from Feuilly and Montparnasse was able to relax again. He hadn’t been worried, shut up.

**F: Be there in 5.**  
**M: You better!**

When he finally stumbled into the nightclub, Feuilly looked disheveled and tired. His ginger hair was sticking up in all kinds of directions and he was out of breath, probably hurrying to get there even more after Montparnasse’s attempt to reach out to him. Montparnasse however couldn’t feel it within him to feel any kind of sympathy for the man. Now that he knew that he was fine, there was really no reason not to be pissed.

“It’s 8pm Feuilly! We’re opening in 2 hours and there is no alcohol. Do you know how well a club without alcohol is doing?” Feuilly gave him a sheepish look, but Montparnasse didn’t even give him the chance to respond before hissing, “It’s a shitshow! That’s what it is! Where the hell were you?”

Feuilly was about four inches taller than Montparnasse but at this moment he looked tiny. 

“I’m sorry okay? I know I wasn’t on time-“ at that part Montparnasse simply huffed. Not on time, how about almost three hours too late? “But,” Feuilly continued on as if he hadn’t heard him, “I just kind of lost track of time. We’re organizing this rally on Sunday and it’s more work than any of us anticipated. It’s just really important that nothing takes a turn for the worse, because that could not only ruin our reputation and keep people away from joining the cause, but it could also be a huge danger for everyone involved and of course we don’t want anyone to get hurt. So, there are so many precautions that have to be made and-“

“Okay, I’m going to stop you right there,” Montparnasse interrupted the man in front of him, “I don’t care about what you and your little huddle of wannabe revolutionaries have planned. Just don’t be late again. I can’t afford drama like that around here. I have a business to run, if you didn’t notice.”

“Well, I run a business too.”

“And we see how well that’s working out, aren’t we?” sneered Montparnasse, but the little smile that tugged on his lips showed Feuilly that he wasn’t truly mad anymore.  
“Yeah, yeah. I love you too, Parnasse.”

He didn’t respond to that, of course, but rather turned away in search of the next problem that needed his fixing.

*

It was close before it was time for opening up, when Montparnasse’s phone vibrated in his back pocket. When he reached for it, he saw that it was a message from Éponine.

**E: We still up for Sunday**

Montparnasse scrunched up his forehead in confusion. It wasn’t unusual for her to message him, but he still couldn’t make sense of her question. For the last few years, ever since he got his own place to be precise, Éponine and her siblings came over for lunch on Sundays. It was the closest thing he, or any of them really, had ever had to a family get together. Why on earth she thought she had to question things all of a sudden, was a riddle to him, so he only typed out a quick text as a response.

**M: Yeah? As always?**  
**E: Okay great :)**

Okay…Smileys? That was something she had never been fond of in her entire life. Before he could voice his confusion though, Babet approached him yet again to tell him that they were good to go. Well, that meant Éponine had to wait. He had a job to get to after all.

If someone would have asked him about 5 years ago where he would see himself end up eventually, Montparnasse would have probably answered with “dead or in prison”, because those really seemed to be the only options at that time. Never in a thousand years would he have thought that he’d be able to have something close to an ordinary life one day. He was earning his money in a (mostly) legal way, didn’t have to fear to lose everything and everyone in the next given moment and was surprisingly enjoying it too. Seeing the lights being shut off, the blacklights being turned on and the various splashes of multicolored paint that decorated the room start to radiate gave him shivers all over his body. Seeing the people stream in, dancing to whatever it was Sous decided to put on that given night, loosing themselves in the music and the people however, made him realize once again that this was what he had craved for so long.

Montparnasse wasn’t ashamed of his past and he rarely regretted any of the things that had occurred during that time. He had lived a life full of hate, robbery, coldness and fraud. Montparnasse knew that he wasn’t a good person. If something like heaven or hell really existed, he knew for sure where a place was reserved for him. Pretending that he hadn’t enjoyed all of that from time to time however would be nothing but phony. He had been good in what he was doing, no, he had been magnificent and he couldn’t lie and say it hadn’t given him a thrill every time he did something that blurred the lines of legality. Every time he ran through the streets on the flight from some officer, he knew he could outrun easily. Every time his friends were beside him hollering through the quiet of the night. So, no he wasn’t ashamed of his past, but he wasn’t proud of it either. This however, he knew was something he could be proud of and he knew Babet was thinking the same when he gave him a smirk from the spot next to him before nudging his shoulder and saying “Come on Parnasse, help me out behind the bar. This is going to be a busy night.” And well, if there was one thing besides his business he could be proud of, then it was his mixing skills.

*

In the end he didn’t manage to ask Éponine about her weird messages before their lunch on Sunday. He was just about to set the table, when the doorbell rang. When he opened the door, he was greeted by Gavroche, who practically jumped on him in his attempt of a hug, and Azelma, who was less obtrusive and simply pressed her lips against his cheek. Incoming last was Éponine who went in for a quick hug, being equally unenthusiastic about physical affection as him. 

When they sat down, a portion of Lasagna in front of everyone, their lunch continued on like most of them did. Gavroche was animatedly telling a story, while Azelma looked at her brother with a disgusted face, because apparently no one had ever taught that boy that you swallowed your food before opening your mouth. Even though Montparnasse would have normally agreed with her wholeheartedly, he couldn’t help but feel fond of him and even found himself chuckling along to the boy’s stories every once in a while. The only one who was uncharacteristically quiet was Éponine. Besides her asking “Where’s Sous?” and him answering “Don’t know. Probably out with Babet again.” they hadn’t exchanged any words. She didn’t even tease and joke in her usual manner with how their relationship seemed to become really serious. 

After they ate, Azelma and Gavroche disappeared from the kitchen, probably going up on the roof where they ended up most days. Éponine and Montparnasse stayed behind to do the dishes. “Washing up or drying?” he asaked but already grabbed the sponge, because he knew from all those times they ate together that Éponine preferred drying the dishes over washing up. For a while it was quiet in the room, not awkward though. They had been friends for far too long, for any kind of weirdness to arise between them. He wanted to ask what was up with her, but he knew if she wanted to talk, she would and he was right when she turned to him and asked “You know Cosette, right?”.

Oh, okay that was what this was about then. Éponine had gotten herself a job as a waitress at the Musain about two years ago, thanks to Feuilly, and she loved it there. They paid good, it was in a walking distance from her home and apparently the company there didn’t repulse her either. Feuilly’s group liked to hold their little _meetings_ there. He had only ever met two of the attendants of those get-togethers, the pretty blond, pesky one that immediately gave him a headache and a small overly excited man with curly hair that annoyed him for a whole different reason. Cosette however, he had never met in person, but heard from through Éponine’s stories of endless pathetic pining. 

“No, I don’t, actually,” he answered eventually.

“Yeah, well but you know _of_ her.”

“You could say that.” He saw her rolling her eyes at that, but he wasn’t going to make it that easy for her. If she wanted to talk, she should talk, but he wasn’t going to become all mushy on her and start discussing her crush.

“She invited me to the Christmas party of the ABC.”

“Okay…that’s good I guess.”

“Yeah, yeah...I guess.” She didn’t sound overly enthusiastic which surprised him considering that she had been pretty much obsessed with the other girl since she first laid eyes on her. After a brief pause, she continued “She also said I could bring friends.” When he didn’t reply to that immediately, she looked up at him expectantly, but _no, oh no_ , he was definitely not going to meet up with a group of self-righteous idiots to celebrate one of his most loathed holidays with them. “Forget it.”

“Parnasse, please! I need someone there with me.”

“What for? She invited you, so now you can make a move on her or whatever. You don’t need me holding your hand through this.”

“But I don’t want this to be awkward. You don’t know how incredible nice she is. I doubt she invited me because it’s me, she probably just felt like she had to. And if show up there on my own, standing lonely in a corner because I hardly know anything about the others besides their usual coffee orders, she will feel obliged to entertain me and will probably hate me by the end of it.”

“That’s a bit drastic, don’t you think?”

“Parnasse, please!” she repeated once again, “I wouldn’t ask you if this wasn’t important to me. I just don’t want to destroy whatever it is that’s between her and me.”

“Can’t destroy something that’s not there,” he responded, but after another look into her big brown puppy eyes, he felt himself giving in. Goddammit he knew he was probably going to regret saying this. “Fine, but you’ll owe me.” She practically beamed after that and was back to her usual self within seconds.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you. Anything you want, really. The party is Thursday in two weeks by the way.”

Thursday…great. If she noticed his frown upon those words, she didn’t comment on it but rather went back to drying up the last plates. Sometimes he forgot how devious that woman could be, for she knew damn well that Thursdays were his movie nights.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I have absolutely no idea what it takes to run a club. So, let's just pretend that it goes something like this.
> 
> I'm also apologizing for the lack of Jehan in this chapter but I really wanted to focus on Montparnasse's daily life a bit. But I promise they will be back again next chapter.
> 
> I really hope you enjoyed this chapter and I would love to hear what you think of the story so far. You can also come talk to me on [tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/redasrevolution).


	3. Horreur sympathique

When Montparnasse entered the cinema the following Thursday, passing the weird guy in the first row to stride towards his usual place in the back, he found himself rather content. It had been a good day so far. His new leather jacket that came straight from Milan had arrived earlier today and besides a few gruff comments from Sous, his roommate had also seemed to be in a rather good mood and even shared some words with him while smoking some cigarettes on the roof together. Besides that, the cinema also showed one of his all-time favorite movies that night. _Dance of the vampires_ was probably more of a comedy than a horror movie but seeing the familiar face of Count von Krolock appear on the screen still sent frightened shivers down his spine like the first time he saw this movie all those years ago. 

Tonight, even more people than usual showed up, seven in total, himself included. That wasn’t exactly impressive but he didn’t mind considering that he couldn’t stand larger crowds anyways. He was just about to lean back into his seat to wait impatiently for the lights to go out and the low murmurs of the people around him to quiet down when an unexpected but not unwelcome person entered the room. Jehan. Beautiful as always even though without any kind of fashion sense, their eyes immediately found his and a tender smile appeared on their face while they started walking towards him. 

Tonight, they wore a long-sleeved yellow shirt that matched the color of their boots and some dungarees. Montparnasse didn’t know those were even still produced, quite frankly if you asked him, they should definitely be banned but Jehan somehow still managed to look adorable in them. Their beige puffy jacket was draped over their arm and their red locks tied up in a messy bun, so that a few strands of hair framed their face perfectly. The only thing missing to complete this image of softness and purity would have been a flower crown or something equally ridiculous, but Montparnasse couldn’t help but feel his skin tingling with anticipation nevertheless.

When they sat down next to him in the exact same spot as the week prior with the same amount of grace, he turned his face into their direction “So, I see you found your way back here.”

“I am a night bird. I am not much good in the daytime.” Everyone else would have probably missed it, even he needed an embarrassing amount of time to catch the meaning behind the words, but this wasn’t one of his favorite movies for nothing. He felt his lips curl into a small smile almost immediately. This little faerie was becoming more and more interesting.

“You certainly do love movies, don’t you?” After a second of contemplating, he decided to play along in Jehan’s little game and asked “So, tell me, what’s my good little fairy up to?”

Jehan’s face brightened up instantly. So, they had caught the movie quote Montparnasse slipped into his question. 

“Your good little fairy is mending your nightshirt,” answered Jehan with ease. Did they honestly have the entire screenplay memorized? Montparnasse couldn’t help but shake his head completely mesmerized, with a small smile on his lips. Yes, they were becoming definitely more and more intriguing by the second. Before he was able to say more however, the light dimmed in a familiar fashion and Alfred and Professor Abronsius started to appear on screen.

Besides this movie being one of his favorites, Montparnasse couldn’t help but let his gaze flicker to the redhead next to him. Like the first time they were surprisingly still, eventually though, Montparnasse could see them mouth some lines along the characters and sometimes their shoulders even shook from silent laughter. Montparnasse really wanted to look away, force himself to get a fucking grip and let this weird fascination behind him, but he couldn’t and it irritated him. He was never one to pine and he sure as hell wouldn’t start now.

The movie was over sooner than he would have liked and he realized that he once again had not paid even the tiniest amount of attention to what was happening on screen. When he looked over to Jehan, it hit him that this would be the time to part yet again and he couldn’t even look forward to next week because he had promised Éponine to go to that stupid party.

Except that Jehan surprised him once more with their next words. “Are you hungry?” It took him a second to understand that this was Jehan’s way of suggesting to have dinner together, but eventually he answered with a simple and hopefully unbothered “Sure, I could eat.”

*

They ended up in a tiny, cozy restaurant that had all kind of plants and flowers plastered on every free surface. It smelled distinctly like patchouli and vanilla and it was exactly the kind of establishment Montparnasse would have normally avoided at all cost. Jehan however seemed to fit right in. It was still crazy to Montparnasse how this sweet, kind person could look equally at home in a dusty, old cinema that played ancient horror movies as in a café that looked like something straight out of the Pinterest board of a teenage girl. Jehan was greeted by one of the waitresses, because of course, they knew who Jehan was. The redhead had apparently noticed his raised eyebrows, the only indication of his surprise.

“I work right around the corner, so I actually come here quiet often,” was what they said after both of them sat down and took a look at the menu. The table they sat at was tiny, only an arm length distanced the two of them and he could feel Jehan’s foot brushing his briefly. There was also a small candle planted in the center of the table, the only real lighting in this place and it casted everything in a low, golden light that made Jehan’s hair practically glow.

“What do you do?” he asked once he managed to take his gaze off of the redhead.

“I work in a tiny bookstore that’s owned by the father of one of my friends. I only work there part times though, I still go to uni.” 

“Let me guess, you study literature,” he had expected another sweet, slightly shy smile. He was however rewarded with an expression, Montparnasse would have described as cocky if it would have been on anyone’s face beside Jehan’s.

“That took quite a lot of brain cells to figure out, huh?” Montparnasse couldn’t help but smile at that. They sure were surprising.

“What do you do?” Jehan asked when the waitress approached their table to take their orders. Montparnasse decided on the pasta, while Jehan ordered a Quinoa-Bowl, whatever the hell that was.

After she disappeared, Montparnasse answered as if the interruption hadn’t even taken place. “I own a club.”

“Oh really? I wouldn’t have guessed that.”

“What did you think I do, then?”

“Mmmh…it’s really hard to see through your disguise, but I still had some theories. I mean you obviously care about your appearance and clothes in general. So, I thought maybe a sales worker, but that didn’t seem quite right, because while I think you’re quiet charming, I can’t see you interacting with a bunch of customers on a daily basis. From the movies you like to watch, one could assume that you might like old things in general. So, I thought, maybe he works with antiquities. They are old, tell a story of their own, are expensive and the interaction with other people would be decreased to a minimum.”

Montparnasse was impressed. When he normally met new people, they always claimed that he was a rather inscrutable person, even his friends seemed to have a problem sometimes with sensing his mood. It was what he considered his advantage, it was what made him dangerous, but this sweet person in front of him had still managed to gather so much information about him and that just by a few sentences they spoke with each other.

Montparnasse raised a single eyebrow before he spoke again “You thought quite a while about this, haven’t you?”

Jehan blushed, which made Montparnasse’s heartrate speed up immediately. “Well, if you believe it or not, but a bookstore is not exactly the busiest place. I have quite a lot of free time.”  
And they used that time to think about him? Interesting. He wanted to tease them about it again. Even if it was just to see them blush once more, but he decided against it. He didn’t want to make Jehan uncomfortable.

“So, what else do you do with your free time?” he asked instead.

“Well, I like to read, obviously, but I also enjoy writing a lot. Mostly poetry.”

“Poetry?”

“Yeah, I love all kinds of poetry, it’s magical to read something that’s so short, yet holds so much meaning, don’t you think?”

“I guess. I don’t read a lot of poems, but I honestly never really enjoyed the flowery one’s that were all mixed up and had to be taken apart piece by piece. I rather have something that’s straight to the point and enticing all the same.”

Jehan seemed to think about his words for a while, their nose scrunched up a bit but besides that nothing on their face indicated at all how they felt about his words. When their eyes focused on him again, he asked “Who’s your favorite poet then?”

“Baudelaire and Poe probably.”

“Poe! I love his work.”

“Really, you don’t think it’s too depressing? I would have taken you for more of a Keats or Lord Byron follower.”

They smiled at him after those words in a way that indicated that they hadn’t missed that he knew far more about poetry than he would like to admit.

“I sure do love my Romantics but Poe’s words speak to me on a different level…It’s hard to explain really, but I don’t think it’s too depressing. On the contrary, I think all kind of emotions should be found in poetry because poetry addresses everything we have to face in life and life just isn’t always pretty.”

“Believe me, I know.”

For a few moments no one said a word, both lost in their own thoughts. They only managed to come out of their daze, when their meals arrived at their table. Thanking the waitress, Jehan picked up their fork and then looked him in the eyes, picking up the conversation once again. 

“I’ve never really read something of Baudelaire’s work before. Weren’t his poems banned once? I always assumed they were rather vile.”

“Well, I’m a vile man.”

“I don’t believe that for even one second.” The certainty in their voice surprised him. Most people believed him to be rather cruel, why Jehan should be an exception was a riddle to him.

“Maybe it’s a fascination that draws me in then. His thoughts are dark, morbid and sometimes yes, vile indeed, but it’s exactly that what I treasure so much about it. Trying to understand the incomprehensible.” Like you, he added in his mind. “But it’s not like all of his work is like that. He writes about love, death, pain, the good, the bad, like every good poet should. And just because society thinks his work is 'an insult to public decency', doesn’t mean it shouldn’t be given a chance. Everyone should be allowed to express themselves.”

With a pleased face and a little chuckle Jehan said “You sound weirdly similar to one of my friends, going on about society like that. Even though I doubt he has any interest at all in poetry.”  
“Maybe he’s the vile man then.”

Surprisingly that made them chuckle once again. “In some way maybe,” Jehan added eventually. They were both quietly enjoying their meals in silence for a while after that. It wasn’t uncomfortable in the slightest though. The next time Montparnasse looked up from his bite of pasta however, he found Jehan staring at him with a sort of interest that Montparnasse didn’t understand until Jehan spoke once again “Okay. You’ve sparked my interest. I’m curious. Recite something for me.”

“What makes you think I could,” answered Montparnasse nonchalantly.

“You can quote scenes from movies other people would consider uneventful. I don’t doubt for a second that you know the work of someone you seem so enthusiastic about. So, please, recite something for me.” 

He had to think about that for a second. There was a variety to choose from, he didn’t want to decide on something that was too graphic though. That he considered reciting poetry to someone who was practically a stranger, was something he should have probably questioned, but strangely he didn’t. Maybe because Jehan didn’t feel much like a stranger at all.

_“From livid skies that, without end,_  
_As stormy as your future roll,_  
_What thoughts into your empty soul_  
_(Answer me, libertine!) descend?_

_Insatiable yet for all_  
_That turns on darkness, doom, or dice,_  
_I’ll not, like Ovid, mourn my fall,_  
_Chased from the Latin paradise._

_Skies, torn like seacoasts by the storm!_  
_In you I see my pride take form,_  
_And the huge clouds that rush in streams_

_Are the black hearses of my dreams,_  
_And your red rays reflect the hell,_  
_In which my heart is pleased to dwell.”_

He had begun to talk silently, almost unsure from not being used to recite poetry in random situations, but Jehan didn’t seem to mind. They seemed to be captured by Baudelaire’s tale from the first word on and Montparnasse found himself almost stumbling over his own words while having these incredible brown eyes fixed intensely on him. Somehow, however, he made it through the poem and after he said his last words, the silence that had suddenly appeared between them seemed heavy. 

“I think I know what you mean now. It was beautiful. Sad, but beautiful indeed. It was almost melancholic. It kind of reminded me of Poe. Thank you,” they chose to say eventually, their voice barely above a whisper, apparently too scared to disrupt the quiet. Not being quite sure why they thanked him, he still answered, his own voice eased into something quiet, “You’re welcome.”

They continued talking about all kind of other things after that. Laughing and joking, every kind of restraint seemed to dissolve into nothingness and their mood was for Montparnasse’s usual behavior surprisingly giddy. He rarely felt that comfortable with other people and if he did, it was only with people he knew for several years. He should have probably been wary, but instead he found himself letting his guards down and enjoying his time like he hadn’t in far too long.

After they finished their dinner and the café approached closing time, Montparnasse paid for them both. Jehan had tried to protest, but it had felt like the right thing. He didn’t have an evening as enjoyable as this in a very long time and if he was quite honest with himself, it had felt like a date anyway, might as well be proper about it. 

Before they parted in front of the café, Jehan had somehow managed to make them exchange numbers. “Just in case I want to share my opinions about poetry with someone.” When Montparnasse agreed, he had the pleasure to see one of Jehan’s radiant smiles one last time, before they pressed their lips to his cheek and disappeared into the night. When Montparnasse saw them turn the corner, he still felt his cheek tingling from their touch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case you've never seen 'Dance of the vampires', it's a super silly but quite enjoyable movie and to this day I'm actually not sure if it's supposed to be scary.
> 
> On another note, while I do like poetry a lot, I'm actually not really familiar with Baudelaire which is why I did some research on him. While doing so, I fell in kind of a hole and found some interesting information (interesting for me at least) which I didn't know how to include in the fic but I thought I could share here. Baudelaire was actually a quiet controversial figure. After he published his "Les Fleurs du mal", there was quite some backlash and he was declared "an insult to public decency" which resulted in some of his poems being banned. However, he also had some admirers of his work, including Victor Hugo who wrote "Your fleurs du mal shine and dazzle like stars.... I applaud your vigorous spirit with all my might."
> 
> Okay that's enough about me geeking out over poetry. In case you were wondering, the poem Montparnasse recites in this chapter is Roy Campbell's translation of "Horreur sympathique". The original poem and several different translations of it can be found [here](https://fleursdumal.org/poem/217).


	4. Rest upon my shoulder

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I originally planned to post this chapter on Thursday but then I fell asleep...But here it is at last: The Christmas Party!! This is by far my favourite chapter I've written so far and I really hope you enjoy it as well. It's a bit longer than my chapters normally are, but it really didn't make any sense to split it up.

**J: Can you believe there are still people out there reading Fifty Shades of Grey?**

**J: I thought the hype about that thing had died down.**

**J: Or at least I hoped so.**

**M: That thing?**

**J: Well, you can’t possibly call this monstrosity literature, can you?**

**J: Ugh, sometimes I really hate my job.**

**M: And that from the mouth of a literature student. Shame on you, little poet.**

**J: Oh, as soon as people learn what true literature is really about, I’m going to be over the moon, I promise.**

**M: A bit judgmental today, aren’t we?**

**J: Apparently someone has to be.**

Montparnasse smiled down at his phone after Jehan’s last message arrived. When they had exchanged numbers, he wasn’t sure what to expect. He wasn’t known for texting a lot. He normally only used his phone for practical reasons. Besides, the people who actually had his private number were the same he had to see on a daily basis anyway. Jehan however, seemed to enjoy texting Montparnasse about the most random encounters. They texted like they talked, without an introduction and unnecessary set phrases. They just liked to share whatever it was that was on their mind and Montparnasse gladly soaked up every information he received.

Jehan especially seemed to like to text him whenever they had a shift in the little bookstore they worked at. _A bookstore is not exactly the busiest place_. Well, they seemed to be right after all considering the amount of text messages Montparnasse had on his phone.

*

The days since they last saw each other passed by in a blur. Besides work and the occasional conversation with either his roommate or Éponine, he spent an embarrassingly long time on his phone waiting for a text. He never initiated these kind of conversations with Jehan. Not because he didn’t want to, he just wasn’t quite sure yet what to tell them. Everything going on in his life seemed too boring, too ordinary to share. However, looking at the texts he received, that didn’t seem to stop Jehan. 

On Sunday after they’re usual lunch he, Éponine, her siblings and even Sous found themselves lounging on top of their roof enjoying the crisp, fresh air of Paris you only experienced in the middle of winter. He had been in quite a good mood all day. So good apparently that even Éponine commented on it. Yet, she brought him back to reality rather quickly with her following words “By the way you don’t have to go all out on Thursday. It’s a rather casual event.”

“Has that ever stopped me before?” he replied easily. She should know by now that the word casual wasn’t part of his vocabulary.

“Where are you going? Can I come with?” asked an overly excited Gavroche. Éponine rolled her eyes before giving him an answer that didn’t leave room for complains, “No. I told you I’m going to a party from my workplace. I can’t just drag my little brother there with me.”

“But I thought it was casual,” said Montparnasse with a shiteating grin that was quickly shut down by a glare that he was sure could kill a man.

“And you’re actually going there with her?” asked Sous with a raised eyebrow and a look full of doubt.

“She didn’t really leave me a choice. She basically begged me to go.”

“I didn’t know you were fond of charity work now.”

“Excuse me?” interrupted Éponine trying to sound offended, “You do know that I’m still here, right?”

“As if other people being around you ever stopped you from talking shit about them,” came the surprising answer of the normally so quiet Azelma. The shocked look of pure betrayal on Éponine’s face upon her sister joining in to gang up on her, made them all crack up, even Sous. 

When his phone vibrated in his jacket, he was quick to take it out, but made sure no one else was able to see what he was doing. Not that they would have paid attention to him anyways while being in the middle of their bickering.

**J: What’s your favorite book?**

**M: Who says I like to read?**

**J: I think we’ve reached the point at which we can stop pretending like you aren’t a massive lit nerd.**

**M: Fair enough.**

**M: Probably The picture of Dorian Gray.**

**J: “I don’t want to be at the mercy of my emotions. I want to use them, to enjoy them, and to dominate them.”**

**J: Good choice.**

**M: I didn’t know I was being tested.**

**J: Well, I needed to make sure you’re not one of those people who enjoy books like Fifty shades of Grey, didn’t I?**

**M: Books? I thought that monstrosity wasn’t worth it to be called literature.**

**J: Touché.**

**M: What’s your favorite book then?**

**J: That’s a tough one.**

**J: There are so many I could choose from.**

**J: But I guess one of my favorites is Wuthering Heights.**

**M: Seriously? I couldn’t even make it through that book. That was probably the most horrendous love story I ever had to witness.**

**J: Because it is, but also because it isn’t a love story at all.**

**J: It’s about so much more than just the relationship between Catherine and Heathcliff.**

**M: But everyone is so unbearable. There was not one character I could stand.**

**J: Yeah but that’s the point!**

**J: I mean everyone in this book is just such a terrible person and they get exponentially worse and worse.**

**J: And you’re just sitting there thinking well they wouldn’t go that far, would they, but then they do and ugh it’s just so good**

**J: Also, the atmosphere of that book is out of this world!**

**J: Sorry, sometimes I get a little overexcited about lit if you haven’t noticed**

**M: Don’t worry, it’s charming**

**J: Is it now?**

**M: So…reading about bad people doing horrible shit is entertaining for you?**

**J: If you phrase it like that it sounds horrible.**

**J: I guess I can’t really explain it.**

**J: Besides, it isn’t like Dorian Gray is such a charming young man now, is he?**

**M: Fair point.**

**M: Maybe I’ll have to give it another chance then.**

**J: That’s all I’m asking for.**

“Hey Parnasse who are you texting? No let me rephrase that, since when do you text?” asked Éponine and managed once again to break him out of his trance. He had almost forgotten there were people surrounding him. When he looked at her, he didn’t show his bewilderment but simply put on his mask of indifference and said, “Well wouldn’t you like to know?”

Once again, she rolled her eyes before she said with a helpless sigh “Why is everyone ganging up on me today?”

*

That evening Montparnasse stood in front of his bookshelf and contemplated if he was actually going to force himself through a book just because it was the favorite of a person he barely knew for two weeks. With a resigned sigh he eventually reached for _Wuthering Heights_ , because yes, apparently, he really was becoming that pathetic.

When he sat down in his bed with a glass of Chardonnay and the thing that was the reason why he knew he couldn’t possibly stay sober, he reminded himself to be open minded. The first time he had attempted to read this book, he hadn’t even made it through the first half of it before he was so fed up with the absolute bullshit of Catherine and Heathcliff. Now, however he tried not to focus on that and actually found himself rather enjoying it. The time passed and when he was almost at the point where he had given up the last time, he started to understand what Jehan had meant. The atmosphere was cold, creepy and yet comfortable and the story itself was truly more than just about a toxic relationship. It was a story about hate, revenge and the dark abyss of human nature. All of those were things he was more than familiar with.

At around 3am he finished the book. He hadn’t even realized how much time had passed and only when he closed it, did he notice his eyes burning from fatigue and his head spinning from the alcohol. He reached over to his phone and sent two messages before he was overcome by sleep.

**M: This book fucking ruined me little poet. But only in the best way possible.**

**M: Guess it’s your time now to say you told me so.**

When he woke up the next morning, still dazed like you only experience it after too little sleep, he had received an answer. An answer that made him feel warmer inside than any glass of wine ever could.

**J: I told you so.**

**J: <3**

*

Montparnasse loved his job, he truly did, but sometimes he still wondered why people assumed just because he was the owner of the club meant that they could address all their problems to him. Claquesous was a quiet man which made him in Montparnasse’s eyes the perfect roommate. He barely talked, complained or really did anything in general. Sometimes, Montparnasse worried about his behavior. While being a pretty unenthusiastic and sullen man himself, he could still find enjoyment in certain aspects of life. With Sous he was never so sure about that. But in moments like these, he remembered that there was actually a pretty passionate young man behind the grumpy façade. 

When talking about his music, Sous could and would pretty much never shut up and currently Montparnasse was his chosen victim of the night of talking through his set up. He was rambling on about Bars, BPM, Gain Structure and all other kinds of words Montparnasse had neither heard of before nor cared for. For all he was concerned Sous could perform naked as long as people would be entertained. Nevertheless, he didn’t interrupt him. It was still an unusual sight to see Sous talk so much and if he was honest, he quite enjoyed it.

When he felt his phone vibrate in an already familiar manner, he didn’t immediately grab it. He wanted to, he really wanted to, but he wasn’t quite ready yet to let others see the pathetic reaction to an incoming text he had developed. The moment however that Sous had what seemed to be a creative breakthrough and was rushing to his laptop to do whatever the hell it was that he did with that thing, Montparnasse took out his phone. The way his heart skipped when he saw that it was indeed Jehan who had texted him was something he decided he would just ignore for now.

**J: So, I won’t be able to make it to the movies tomorrow.**

**J: My friends have planned a Christmas get together. Don’t know why it had to be on a Thursday, but oh well…**

**J: It’s a shame though they are going to show La maschera del demonio.**

**J: If you happen to hate Italian horror movies however, you’re always welcome to join me.**

**M: Can’t. My friend is dragging me to this thing.**

**M: Seems like your friends aren’t the only ones who had the glorious idea to have a Christmas party on a Thursday.**

**J: Alright. Hope you have fun though <3**

**M: You too.**

*

Fun wasn’t exactly the word with which Montparnasse would have described his night so far. He really wasn’t in the mood to spend his free evening with a bunch of pseudo world savers and he indeed would have rather went to see an extraordinary example of Italian horror, but he wasn’t as disappointed as he thought he would be. After all, Jehan wouldn’t be at the movies either and going there without their calming presence beside him, already seemed out of place. He knew that he eventually had to think about what his apparent addiction with the little redhead meant for him, but he wasn’t ready to let his thoughts wander there yet. Talk about stubbornness. 

His night could have really been quite acceptable so far if it wouldn’t have been for an obviously tense Éponine next to him. Sometimes he really couldn’t understand that woman. She could be as cold as ice if she wanted to and yet she became a nervous wreck at the thought of spending her evening with a group of politics nerds. And not even any nerds. No, the same idiots she knew and served for over two years. So, he really didn’t know why she looked like she was going to pass out every second right now.

“How do I look?” she asked him for what felt like the tenth time that evening. They had been standing outside of the Musain for a good 10 minutes already and Montparnasse truly started to doubt his life choices at that moment.

“At this point I’m really not sure if you want my honest opinion or if you’re just fishing for compliments.”

“Parnasse!” she called out seemingly nervous over his vague answers. The look she received from him in return was something between concern and pity.

“As I have already told you various times tonight, you’re gorgeous,” he said in a rare instance of pure honesty. He made sure to look into her eyes while saying so and seeing him speak without the usual bite in his voice seemed to calm her down, for she took one last deep breath before saying, “Let’s go!”

She really was beautiful tonight. Her dark hair, usually tied up in a high ponytail, was falling down her back in soft waves. Combined with her red lipstick and the dark green dress, she looked like a more stunning, sexier version of Snow White. If that Cosette girl wasn’t going to fall for her on the spot after seeing her in that attire she was either stupid or painfully straight.

The moment they actually entered the café, he basically wanted to bolt right out again for it seemed like he had walked straight into Santa’s wet dream. Everything was too bright, too glittery and somehow, they had even managed to jam a Christmas tree in the tiny backroom of the café. When Éponine had said casual, she had actually meant casual judging from the people around him who were dressed in jeans and ridiculous Christmas sweaters, he wouldn’t even have touched in his wildest dreams. If he would have been a different man, he would have probably felt uncomfortably overdressed in his tight black pants and the equally black cashmere sweater. But he wasn’t, so he just felt like he was the only one around with common sense.

Before he had any chance to flee however, they were approached by a petite girl with a bouncy blonde bob and a flowy pastel pink dress who wore a smile that could blind people. She looked like she walked straight out of a fairytale and Montparnasse decided then and there that she was his favorite person in the room. Even if it was just for the fact that she didn’t walk around in a hideous sweater with a Rudolph the red nosed Reindeer print on it.

“Cosette! Hello,” said his accompaniment next to him. Oh, so that was Cosette. Slowly but surely, he understood Éponine’s fascination with the girl. She was beautiful and the positive energy radiating from her was something Éponine, just as him, wasn’t used to. It also reminded him of a certain redhead.

“Éponine! It’s so good to see you. I’m so happy you could make it,” said Cosette after hugging the taller girl tightly. When her eyes turned to him, her smile seemed to waver ever so slightly, “And I see you’ve brought company.”

Oh great, not only did he have to spend his night at a party, he didn’t want to be at. No, on top of that, he had to spend the night at a party he wasn’t even welcome at.  
Éponine however, seemed to be oblivious about Cosette’s change of mood. She simply turned towards him and said “This is my friend Montparnasse. Montparnasse, this is Cosette.”  
“Pleasure,” was all he replied indifferently. 

“Well, the more the merrier, right?” said Cosette with a smile that all but looked forced at this point. When her eyes started to dart unsurely between him and Éponine, it finally dawned on him where her strange behavior was coming from. He couldn’t suppress a small smirk. Dumbasses, all around him, but they were going to be fine. Or at least he hoped so.

“Éponine! Oh, light of my life! I’m being drowned in the joyful abyss that’s Christmas time. Please tell me at least you haven’t turned into one of these mushy people yet,” called out a man with dark curly hair and a horrendous green sweater who practically draped himself on top of Éponine. Contrary to what Montparnasse expected, she didn’t shrug him of, but just rolled her eyes fondly at him before replying, “R, your dramatic is showing.”

“Don’t pretend like you don’t love it,” answered the man, whose name apparently only consisted of a single letter, cheekily, “And who’s that fella over there with the hella good hair?”

Before anyone had the chance to introduce him to the man who apparently liked to talk in Taylor Swift lyrics, they were interrupted by a melodic and quite familiar voice “Montparnasse!”

When he turned his head to find the source of the voice, he found no other than Jehan’s brown eyes staring back at him. They seemed to be surprised, if their bright smile was any indication to go by though, it was a pleasant surprise. Only a few feet away, they were standing next to a tall bald man who had his arms draped around a beautiful woman with a curly mane and a much tinier, fragile looking man. 

After Jehan’s call, it was like the focus of the entire room shifted towards him. He himself was more than just a little surprised. How big were the chances of them ending up at the same party? How likely was it that Éponine had apparently served Jehan coffee for over two years and yet their paths hadn’t crossed before a few weeks ago? For once in his life, Montparnasse was speechless, and so seemed to be everyone else. The person who retrieved his speaking compatibility first, was apparently R, “So, does someone want to explain how the sweetest person walking on earth and the scariest one, since Enjolras over there, know each other?”

This brought him an outraged “Hey! I’m not scary!” as an answer from no other than the little blond marble statue come to life that he recognized as the leader of the group, who apparently also went by the name of Enjolras.

“You so are, Apollo! But that’s okay. Combined with your tininess and that blond hair of yours, it’s almost endearing,” was what he said after walking over to the smaller man and smothering him with specifically obnoxious kisses on his cheeks. To Montparnasse’s surprise, Enjolras blushed and resigned with a low grumble that didn’t really sound all that annoyed.

No one else seemed to even acknowledge this behavior for it was apparently standard procedure between the two of them. Their eyes however were still fixed on Montparnasse and Jehan, who now decided to approach him, seemingly unaware of the attention that was drawn to them.

“So, this is the party you were dragged to, huh?” was what they chose to say eventually, “What a strange world this is.”

“The strangest,” were the words he somehow managed his mouth to produce. He was sure the bewilderment he still felt had to show on his face with an absolutely ridiculous look, but somehow, he didn’t seem to be able to get his face under control. Right before Jehan was about to say something, they were interrupted by one of Jehan’s friends.

“Wait a minute! Are you the Montparnasse? Scarily good-looking, kind of apathetic, former criminal and brother of Feuilly Montparnasse?!” was basically shouted at his face by a bulky, overly excited man Montparnasse would have considered to hire as a doorman, if he wouldn’t have already had Gueulemer. 

“Foster brother,” he drawled, not wanting to get involved into explaining his damaged family relations with a bunch of strangers.

This didn’t only cause everyone again to give him strange looks, even Jehan looked up at him with a perplexed face. The quietness that followed this revelation seemed to stretch forever and became increasingly more awkward, when suddenly the door behind Montparnasse opened with a creek and two men stepped into the room who apparently still had been missing. One of them was Feuilly, the other Montparnasse recognized from the time he once picked up Éponine after work. He was the one who choose to break the still remaining awkward silence. “Wow! I didn’t expect you to party so hard without us.”

This miraculously worked to break the stupor, for slowly everyone turned back to their conversations but not without a few wary looks at him, especially from Enjolras’ direction at the other end of the room. Jehan gave him one last intense look and a murmured “Don’t think you’re off the hook yet. You’ve got some explaining to do,” before releasing him and turning their attention to the man next to Feuilly, with which they began a lively conversation about the glitter on the man’s face.

Left to his own devices, Montparnasse chose an empty corner and sat down after having grabbed a tall glass of red wine. After having made the rounds, Feuilly approached him with a perplexed look on his face. Really, what was it tonight that everyone was so goddamn surprised. He sat down on the couch next to him and turned his head to give him his full attention.  
“I can’t say I’m not a little surprised to see you here. You know, I would have invited you, but I didn’t really think this would be your scene.”

“It isn’t, but Ponine didn’t really leave me a choice.” 

He received a somehow understanding look after this and with a tiny smile Feuilly asked “Puppy eyes?”

Not being able to suppress a smile himself, he simply nodded and confirmed “Puppy eyes.”

That earned him a short but boisterous laugh and with still gleaming eyes the man next to him said cheekily “Be careful, you might turn soft.”

“You wish.”

After that they turned to a completely different topic and started to chatter the time away or rather Feuilly chattered. Montparnasse was content with listening and drinking. Feuilly told him about work, his mother that apparently really missed Montparnasse and would love for him to visit her sometime – _yeah, sure_ – and about the huge man from earlier that apparently went by the name of Bahorel. Eventually, Feuilly got up to join his friends and Montparnasse was on his own once again. He didn’t mind that however, the wine and the general warmth of the room had made him feel wonderfully dizzy and comfortable and all of the former uneasiness seemed to have been washed away.

He wasn’t able to enjoy his evening peacefully alone however, when he was once again approached, this time by the man who apparently went by an one-letter-only name.

“Can I join you?”

“Well, you’re the first person who’s neither sending me death glares nor shitting their pants by just looking in my direction. So, I would say, suit yourself,” he said indifferently.

“Pretty and funny, huh? My dear Mont, I think that’s the beginning of a wonderful friendship.” Montparnasse wanted to roll his eyes at that, but he didn’t find the energy in him to even so much as look annoyed.

“This is our first conversation and you’re already butchering my name?”

“Full offence but Montparnasse just sounds way too pretentious. I’m Grantaire by the way, I didn’t really have a chance to introduce myself before.”

“What a shame,” he sneered. Somehow Grantaire didn’t seem to be irritated by his short and defensive answers even the slightest bit, he rather seemed joyously entertained as if Montparnasse was the most amusing thing he ever laid eyes on. Seriously, what was wrong with these people?

“So, I’m curious, how do you know Jehan?” 

Under normal circumstances, he wouldn’t have answered that question, but he was tired, dizzy and all of this seemed so surreal that he really didn’t care anymore at this point. “We enjoy the same kind of movies.”

“Those creepy old horror movies? Really? I would have thought you had better taste.”

That was something, Montparnasse decided didn’t even deserve an answer, so he simply gave Grantaire a derogatory look and turned back to his, at this point, third glass of wine. When he looked up again, he caught the glare of one specific blond. Montparnasse, suddenly curious, turned back to Grantaire who seemingly didn’t care at all that he never got an answer from him. “So, why exactly is your boyfriend currently killing me with eyes?”

“What Enjolras? Oh, he looks at everyone like that in the beginning. Believe me, I had to go through the death glare treatment almost two years, every time I said something stupid, inappropriate or quote “completely unhelpful for the current situation at hand and Grantaire why are you even here if all you’re going to do is belittle the cause?””

“So, all the time then?”

Grantaire let out a short, dull laugh after that. “Pretty much yeah,” after a second, he added, “Just give him some time. He’s not good at showing it, but he cares deeply about his friends and Jehan just happens to be one of them. He’s just protective.”

“There’s nothing to be protective over.”

“Sure, if you say that,” Grantaire said but the look he gave him while doing so, spoke a completely different tale of skepticism and, weirdly, understanding.

Maybe it was the wine or maybe it was his lack of sleep that made him say his next words, because god knows he wouldn’t have showed his curiousness so openly in a sober state “So, how did you two end up together? No offence, but you really don’t seem like the kind of people you would assume are in a relationship with each other.”

“Believe me sometimes I’m still asking myself how I got lucky enough to have this,” he said with a slightly melancholic smile that soon turned into something more joyful with his next words however, “It’s actually kind of a long story but let’s just say it involved a bet, Rousseau and rubber ducks.”

“Rubber ducks?”

“Rubber ducks,” the other man confirmed like that was a completely normal thing to say. Montparnasse damned himself several times before he said “You know what? I changed my mind. I really don’t want to know.”

They sat together in silence for a little while longer after that before Grantaire was dragged away by his boyfriend to god knows where. It was almost 1am when he was eventually approached by Jehan.

They sat down next to him and instead of giving any kind of greeting or wasting time with unnecessary small talk, they dived right into a conversation, just like Montparnasse was used to by now.  
“Did you ever plan to tell me that you’re the brother of one of my best friends?” they asked with an eyebrow arched which made them look incredibly foxy.

“Foster brother, technically.”

“Semantics. I feel like I should have known, but I really can’t remember if Feuilly ever mentioned your name to me before.”

“I doubt it. You probably don’t score sympathy points around here for knowing someone like me.” Montparnasse bit his tongue after saying that. Somehow that had sounded way too bitter even for his liking. Jehan gave him one of their intense, thoughtful looks before saying “We don’t judge around here, especially not for something that we clearly have no influence on. Besides, he must have mentioned you to at least one of us.”

“Yeah, what was that about?” he asked remembering the outburst of the bulky guy from earlier. Seeing him cringe visibly from that thought made Jehan giggle in a delicate way.

“That’s just Bahorel for you. He can look a bit intimidating, but I swear he’s actually really sweet. He just has to learn how to control his volume.”

That was definitely something Montparnasse was familiar with and he wondered what would happen if you would bring this guy together with Gueulemer. It would probably end in Chaos like almost everything that Gueul was involved in.

“So, you liked Wuthering Heights then?” Jehan asked eventually after they had sat around in a content, tired silence for a while. Montparnasse huffed. It was the middle of the night and they wanted to discuss literature. He couldn’t say that he was surprised. Slowly he turned his head to look in their eyes. They lost their normally elegant posture a while ago and were now slumped on the couch, in what looked like to be a rather uncomfortable position, but it seemed to work for them.

“Most definitely. It was quite depressing but I guess that’s just life for you.” Okay, wow, maybe he should really lay off the wine from this point on.

“I always wondered why so many great classics are so depressing,” they slurred a bit, obviously starting to get more tired by the second. Normally, Montparnasse would have stayed quite after that but he chose to say something eventually, like you only do when you’re drunk and tired and you feel especially philosophical.

“I guess because they were written in truly depressing times. I mean almost no one lived past thirty, they had no real choice in what to do with their life and technology was basically nonexistent. They just stayed as true to the ugly truth as possible.”

Jehan stayed quite for while after that. Montparnasse thought they had already dozed off when he suddenly felt them put their head on his shoulder. They moved again to look up at him and he turned his face once again in their direction. Their noses were almost touching at this point and it made Montparnasse feel like everything was on fire. His skin was tingling with anticipation. Montparnasse stared at Jehan’s face, while they stared back. Both of them lost themselves in the other’s gaze while wandering over the features of the other’s face at the same time. He had stared at their eyes and those delicate little freckles on several occasions in the few times that they had seen each other but he had never had them so close. Before he could do anything stupid however, like close the tiny space left between them, he forced himself to turn his head up front again. This seemingly also brought Jehan out of their trance again who then picked up their conversation like nothing had happened, never leaving their place on his shoulder.

“But that’s exactly why there should be more uplifting literature. Embracing the ugly is one thing but wallowing in misery is something completely different.” Montparnasse needed a moment to remember what they had even talked about. He didn’t know how Jehan had regained their ability to form full sentences so quickly considering that his head was still spinning and this time it wasn’t because of his overconsumption of wine that night.

They kept on talking throughout the night with more and more breaks of silence in between, both of them becoming more and more tired by the minute. When Jehan eventually fell asleep, Montparnasse decided that enough was enough and he slowly let his eyes wander around the room. Some of the others had already left. Éponine was still around. With the head of a tightly sleeping Cosette on her lap, she was in a seemingly deep conversation with Grantaire who had his sleeping boyfriend tied around him firmly. Feuilly was still sitting at a table together with Bahorel and the Trio, Montparnasse had seen Jehan stand next to earlier that night, was fast asleep, basically stapled on top of each other on a tiny couch.

He shook Jehan lightly and whispered “Time to get up little poet.” before standing up slowly, stretching after the long night on the tiny couch. Jehan let out a small sigh but let themself being pulled off the couch without complaining. After getting their coats Jehan went around, giving out hugs to everyone who was still awake. Montparnasse settled on a simple nod before following Jehan out the door. The look Éponine sent his way before he left promised an upcoming conversation. He was way too tired to worry about any of that at this point however.

The walk to Jehan’s was short considering they only lived a few blocks away from the café. They spent their walk mostly in a content silence, both too tired to hold up an actual conversation. When Jehan, only in a thin jacket, began visibly shivering next to Montparnasse, he took off his coat and draped it over their shoulders. Normally, he wouldn’t have parted with his clothes for even a second but he figured he could make an exception every once in a while. When they reached the apartment, Jehan got up on his toes once again and pressed a soft kiss on Montparnasse’s cheek that felt surprisingly warm against the striking cold. After Jehan had disappeared behind their front door, Montparnasse turned around to walk home himself, his tiredness completely forgotten.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Maybe "Rubber ducks" will be our "always". 
> 
> In case you're interested in how Enjolras and Grantaire got together in this universe, you might like to know that I'm actually planning on writing a little prequel that I'll hopefully be able to post very soon. But no promises,because I haven't even finished this story yet. 
> 
> I'm probably going to post another chapter before the end of the year. If I shouldn't be able to do so however, I already wish you a merry christmas and a happy new year! As always I'm happy to hear what you think of the story so far. You can also always talk to me on [tumblr](https://redasrevolution.tumblr.com/).


	5. Holly jolly christmas time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delayed update but you know how stressful the time around the holidays can get. I hope you enjoy this chapter and aren't too fed up with Christmas content already.

Montparnasse was sitting in front of his laptop at the club when someone chose to sit down across from him. That someone, it turned out, was Éponine who was waiting patiently for him to notice her. When he finally did look up, he sighed exasperated and asked “What are you doing here?”. He had a weird feeling he knew exactly why she was there, but as a matter of fact, he was neither in the mood to discuss the topic at hand, nor did he really want to.

“Today is my day off,” was all she said, not coming straight to the point as expected. Then again, she always liked to torture him.

“So, you just thought you would pop in for a sec and say hello, not caring that you technically have no business being in here before opening.”

“Gueul let me in.”

“Of course he did.”

After a short pause she continued, now steering the conversation into the direction she wanted to go in since the beginning. “So, you and Jehan. What’s that about?” she asked hesitantly. And, for fuck’s sake, he really didn’t want to discuss that right now. No, scratch that, he never ever wanted to discuss this with her.

“Don’t think that’s any of your business,” he therefore said as dismissive as humanly possible, but she wasn’t known for being scared off easy, so she just raised her eyebrows and gave him a look that was somewhere between amusement and pity.

“Are you friends? Or is there more? You two seemed awfully close. How do you even know each other?” she bombarded him with questions. He gave her another annoyed look before replying, “Again, it isn’t any of your business. I’m not asking you about Cosette either, am I?” What he thought would keep her off his back, apparently only infused her interest however. 

“So, it is more then? I thought I was the only one who was pathetically pining,” she replied with a laugh, “but how does that work? I mean, you two don’t really seem like the type of people who would get along.”

“How often do I have to repeat myself? It’s none of your business.” he was now past being annoyed and started feeling himself getting angry. Who was she to decide what kind of people they were?

“Sorry, it’s just… Jehan and you, that’s hard for me to imagine. You guys are like day and night, like fire and ice, like….like chocolate and mint.”

“Chocolate and mint go great together actually,” he answered deliberately ignoring the true meaning behind her statement.

“You’re disgusting, you know that?”

“Says the girl who drinks Tequila straight from the bottle,” he said with a visible shudder of disgust.

“You’re just jealous,” she replied with a smirk, “So, back to the topic-“.

He interrupted her before she had any chance to draw the conversation back to his personal life. “I have to go. I have a meeting with one of my business partners.”

The look he received after that told him that she knew exactly what he was doing but lucky for him she chose to have mercy and let it go. 

“Business partners…as if you’re not just investing your money in some wannabe Pablo Escobar.”

“People are going to buy and use that shit anyway. So, what does it matter if I make money off of it or not?”

“Okay Mr. Moral philosophy. Do what you have to do, I wouldn’t let Jehan hear that however.” He really had to swallow down his anger before he could continue on. She really couldn’t let it go, could she?  
“Hey don’t you still owe me a favor?”

She looked at him warily, before slowly saying, “Yeah, what do you want?”

“Let’s start with you leaving me the fuck alone,” he said, the irritation and anger clearly visible in his voice. To his annoyance, she only laughed, but still got up from her seat across from him.

“Okay, okay, grumpy, I’m going. Oh, but can I come over on Saturday a bit earlier than planned? I bought a Christmas tree and I have to set it up beforehand. Zelma and Gav are going to freak out. Okay, I leave you to it. Bye!”

And once again she had managed to completely talk over him and leave before he had any chance of even attempting to say no…she was a devious woman indeed.

*

Throughout his whole life, Christmas had never been something Montparnasse looked forward to. His family hadn’t been Christian, not his biological family at least. Most of the time they didn’t even realize what month it was, too busy being drunk and beating the shit out of each other to care. 

When he was thrown into the foster system and started being passed around like a basket of breadsticks, there had been changes, but they weren’t necessarily positive. Some made clear pretty much from the beginning that he wasn’t considered part of the family and therefore wouldn’t be part of the celebration. That resulted in him either sitting in a corner the whole night, or being locked away in his room. 

It wasn’t until later, when he had already given up on the concept of family and tradition that Montparnasse had found people that wanted to spend time with him. Feuilly never talked about the time when Montparnasse would sneak out regularly. He had never told him what his mother had thought about it, if she was worried, angry or frustrated. And Montparnasse knew that he should feel guilty about it, the problem was just that he really didn’t. He never tried to incorporate himself into the family, never tried to bond with any of them. The only reason Feuilly was still around was because he was so damn persistent.

As far as Montparnasse was concerned family had nothing to do with blood relation, a shared surname or even living in the same house. Family were the people who were willing go through hell and back for the other and chose to stick around despite everything. He just happened to find those people in the most unlikely place.

Babet, Sous, Gueul, Éponine and her siblings were people who knew exactly what it meant to have nowhere to go and so they started to build a home themselves. From gang members to friends to the closest thing Montparnasse would ever have that resembled a family.

So yeah, Christmas wasn’t exactly something Montparnasse was fond of, but they had managed to make this holiday something their own. Pretty much since Éponine had turned eighteen and was finally able to become the legal guardian of her siblings, they had started to incorporate things like their weekly Sunday lunches or a Christmas spent together that would not only teach Gav and Azelma a sense of belonging but also started to become some of Montparnasse’s fondest memories. Something he could actually look forward to. They hadn’t quite erased the demons of their past but they started building a future that was worth fighting for.

As promised Éponine stumbled into his apartment earlier than usual on a Christmas day to set up a modest but beautiful tree. They had never bothered with decorating before, silently agreeing that this day was more about spending it together than actually caring about traditions. This year however, Éponine seemed eager to create the most cliché, _‘Love actually’_ kind of Christmas possible. He didn’t particularly care, but he wasn’t too keen on joining her in her holiday madness either, so he chose to follow Sous up to the roof to sit together in comfortable silence. A cigarette in one hand, his phone in the other he scrolled through twitter when an incoming message suddenly popped up.

**J: Merry Christmas!**

**J: At least if you celebrate it. Otherwise I hope you have a lovely Saturday!**

**M: Merry Christmas, little poet.**

**M: I’m not really celebrating it, no. At least not in the most conventional way…even though Éponine seems to be in the middle of trying to change that**

**J: Did the Christmas madness get her too?**

**M: Seems very much like it. You think I can stop her or is it already too late for that?**

**J: Depends. What is she currently up to?**

**M: The last time I saw her she was hanging up stockings. Not sure for what though…It’s not like anyone is going to put something in them.**

**J: I hate to break it to you, but I think she might already be beyond help.**

Montparnasse let out an amused huff which earned him a curious look from Sous. He was just about to text Jehan back when he suddenly felt a presence behind him and then Éponine was already talking, so close to his ear that he could feel her breath as a tickling sensation creeping up his spine “Who are you texting?”.

To put more distance between them and so he would be able to actually look her in the face, Montparnasse leaned a bit to the side and then proceeded to scoop over, so she would be able to sit down as well. His answer to her question was a dismissive “None of your business.” that seemed to have become his mantra these days.

“Ah, Jehan then.”

“Who’s Jehan?” asked Sous suddenly. Montparnasse had almost forgotten that at least he hadn’t been pulled into that part of his life yet.

“Oh Sous, catch up! Jehan is Montparnasse’s sweetheart. He still didn’t tell me how they met but Jehan was at the Christmas party too and they were practically inseparable. It was absolutely adorable. You should have been there. Goodness! They grow up so quickly. One day they’re sitting grumpily in a corner and the next they’re grumpily in love. Not long and he’s going to be married off with kids!” teased Éponine with a look in her eyes that revealed exactly how much she was enjoying this.

“As long as I’m going to be the godfather,” voiced Sous. And really, was today the annoy Montparnasse into unconsciousness day or what was their deal?

“Fuck off, both of you. Also, who in their right mind would make you godfather, Sous. You’re terrible with kids,” he replied with a stern expression.

“Well you’re terrible most of the time and we still get a long.”

“He has a point,” threw Éponine in and started giggling in content glee.

They sat like that for a while looking over the snow-covered roofs of Paris and enjoying the crisp, cold air, when Éponine broke the silence again “So, what are they up to?”.

“Who?”

“Jehan, dumbass.”

“Don’t know. Haven’t asked. They’re probably at home with their family.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that. The last thing I heard was that they weren’t planning on going home until New Year’s.”

“Well, maybe they’re staying with their friends then,” he suggested. It was really the only other option, right? He couldn’t imagine a joyous person like Jehan spending a day like Christmas on their own, but Éponine was only shaking her head.

“Most of them are leaving town for the holidays. The only ones still in Paris are Joly, Bossuet and Musichetta and I can’t imagine Jehan would want to join their…celebration,” she said with a suggestive smile that really didn’t leave much room for interpretation.

“The throuple?” he asked nevertheless and she only nodded in confirmation. Yeah, he couldn’t really imagine Jehan joining in on that either.

“So, are you going to invite them or what?” she asked and he turned his head towards her so fast, he might have heard his neck crack.

“Are you crazy? With you guys around? Thanks, but I’d rather not,” he huffed. Before he had the chance to say more however, Éponine had already reached over and grabbed his phone. Completely startled by her sudden movement he couldn’t do anything besides watching her dial Jehan’s number in horrified silence.

“Jehan? Hey, it’s me Ponine. Excuse me for Parnasse’s bad manners, but we were just talking about you and wondered if you might be interested to join us.” He watched her in utter shock listening to whatever it was that Jehan was saying on the phone. He had no idea what was going on and Éponine who didn’t say much more than “Mmh”, “Yeah, sure” and “No, of course not” wasn’t really any help. Currently, she was throwing her head back laughing and Montparnasse really started considering her going crazy when she suddenly hung up, handed him his phone and plopped down next to him in complete silence.

“So?” he eventually said and she turned to him once again with a sly smile. 

“They’ll be here in about an hour.” After she had spoken those words, he immediately shot up and was already halfway down the stairs when he heard Éponine ask “Where are you going?”. He couldn’t be bothered to answer however. The last thing he heard before the door closed behind him was Sous’ mocking “Probably about to get changed.”

And fuck him for that. But also, yes, he damn sure was.

*

When he opened the door for Jehan about an hour later, he was, what you would call, dressed to impress. For the untaught eye, the black skinny jeans and the white shirt didn’t seem like much, but it was no coincidence that those jeans were his ‘pick-up’ jeans as Babet liked to call them. They did make his ass look fabulous. The shirt then pretty much did the rest with it being slim fitted and letting his shoulders appear broader than they actually were. It also showed off his arms quite nicely which Jehan had apparently already noticed, if their lingering eyes on his body were any indication to go by.  
Jehan themself was dressed rather modestly considering their usual appearance. They wore some light, well-fitting jeans and an oversized blue pullover that had some roses embroidered within it. Montparnasse raised his eyebrows in question “Only one colour today? And a primary one too?”

Instead of a giggle which he hoped he would receive, Jehan just shrugged shyly “I wasn’t sure how formal you guys celebrate. Also, this was what Bahorel recommended me to wear.”

“Well you look stunning as always, but you shouldn’t have worried. We don’t really make a big deal out of Christmas around here,” answered Montparnasse in a soothing manner. They smiled at him before pushing something in wrapping paper towards him. “I got you something,” they said, “or rather I found something in our donations to the bookstore.”

When Montparnasse unwrapped it, an old and clearly worn out edition of _‘The picture of Dorian Grey’_ revealed itself. 

“It’s an edition from the 1920s and someone has even written some annotations into it. I’m actually not quite sure why someone would want to get rid of this but I’m certainly not complaining. However, we can’t sell something that someone has already written in to. So, I thought you might like it.”

Montparnasse was speechless. He couldn’t remember the last time that someone had gotten him a Christmas present, especially something in which someone put actual thought. Jehan might act like it wasn’t a huge deal, but to Montparnasse it certainly was. “Thank you,” he didn’t so much as whisper, “but I didn’t get something for you.” 

Jehan smiled sweetly and answered “Being here with you is present enough.” And well if that didn’t make his heart stutter just to continue on to beat twice as fast. Before he had a chance to act upon these ridiculously corny and wonderfully enticing words, they were interrupted by Sous who suddenly stood in the doorframe. “Are you going to invite them in or what?” he asked teasingly with a look that was far to knowing for Montparnasse’s liking. It was only then that he realized that they had actually never moved away from the entry. He quickly moved to the side to let Jehan in and proceeded to introduce his roommate to his- eh- to Jehan.

When they moved towards the living room, Montparnasse was hit with the sheer amount of Christmas overload once again and Jehan seemed to experience something similar. 

“You really didn’t exaggerate, huh?” they said while looking around the room that was filled with a ridiculous amount of decor and so many fairy lights that Montparnasse was sure he was about to be blinded. Jehan wore an expression on their face that was a mix of amusement and utter admiration and Montparnasse was happy Éponine wasn’t there yet, for she would have never let him live that down.  
“Speaking of, where’s our dear Éponine?” Jehan asked as if he was able to track Montparnasse’s thoughts. He cleared his throat awkwardly before answering, “She went to pick up her siblings at home. I’m sure she’ll be here soon.”

They just looked at each other for a little while longer before Montparnasse remembered his basic manners and asked “Can I get you anything? Water, Coffee-“  
“Tea?” they chimed in, “Chamomile if you have any?”

“It’ll just be a minute,” he said when he heard Sous call after him.

“For me just some black tea, thanks.” His voice was dripping with sarcasm and okay maybe Montparnasse had temporarily forgotten that he had been in the room as well, but could you blame him?  
While he boiled some tea water, he heard the doorbell ring and Sous making his way towards the door. He carried the two cups of tea back into the living room and had just enough time to set them down on the table before Gavroche already jumped on his back. 

“Jeez, Gav! What got you so damn excited?” Gavroche looked at him as if he was the biggest moron on the planet before saying as if it was obvious, “Uh, it’s Christmas, remember? Already fighting memory loss, Parnasse? I knew you were old, but that old, really?”

“I’m 24, for god’s sake! Your sister is older than me!” he responded the tiniest bit offended, but Gavroche had already moved on to staring at Jehan with narrowed eyes.

“You’re new,” he simply said and Montparnasse felt nothing but respect for Jehan who didn’t even seem uncomfortable by the 13-year-old boy mustering him. They simply smiled and introduced themself.

Montparnasse had feared the awkwardness or questions that might arise with Jehan attending their Christmas eve but in hindsight he should have known that Jehan had absolutely no problem winning anybody over. Gavroche had apparently found a new hero and was so fascinated with Jehan’s long red hair that they had put in a beautiful braid that night that he swore he would grow his hair out as well. Montparnasse couldn’t really blame him. If there was one thing Montparnasse was absolutely enthralled by it was Jehan’s hair. Azelma who was normally quite shy around new people, warmed up quickly to them and was soon talking about her crush, much to Éponine’s dismay. Azelma had just recently turned 16 and Éponine who had practically raised her, was still in denial that her little sister was growing up and falling in love. Especially with a boy like Brujon who got in more trouble than should be humanly possible. Even Sous seemed more carefree and chuckled along to Jehan’ tales.

The hours passed by quickly and any kind of formality was soon lost. They ate, the talked and soon they were all lounging around in the living room with Sous and Éponine on the couch, Azelma on the armchair and Gav to her feet. Montparnasse himself had sat himself down on the ground and Jehan was lying next to him, their head placed on his lap, animatedly telling a story about a customer they had had back in the bookstore a week prior while Bing Crosby’s _White Christmas_ was playing quietly in the background. Any kind of nervousness that might have lingered within them seemed to have vanished completely. They were in their element, like they belonged nowhere else but right next to him on his living room floor. Any other day Montparnasse might have felt uncomfortable with so much display of obvious affection, but tonight he was content. They had had a nice meal, he was thankful for the second chance life had given him and he was surrounded by his family. Montparnasse really had anything he needed right there and Jehan seemed to fit right in.

*

When the clock approached midnight and Gavroche had already fallen asleep on his carpet, Éponine collected her siblings and made her way home. With her gone it wasn’t long until Jehan announced their departure. A part of Montparnasse wanted them to stay, but a bigger, prouder part of him couldn’t get himself to fully admit that. At least not out loud.

After Montparnasse had walked Jehan to his door, they turned to him, kissed him on his cheek and were just about to walk away when they came to a sudden halt. Almost hesitant they looked him in the eyes and said “In two days the bookstore I’m working at is hosting a poetry slam.”

Not quite sure what to do with that information Montparnasse asked “Like a competition?”

“Not really, no. We firmly believe there are no winners or losers in poetry. It’s more like an open mic night. Would you like to come?”

And the answer was, generally, no. But with Jehan looking at him like that and the memory of them reciting poetry at the most random of times, he could only imagine what an extraordinary experience it would be to hear them read something of their original work. So, in the end there was really only one answer he could give.

“As long as I don’t have to participate.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always I hope you've enjoyed this update and I would be happy to hear what you think of the story so far. You can also come talk to me on  
> [tumblr](https://redasrevolution.tumblr.com/).


	6. I am just what you see

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello my friends! Long time no see! As you might have noticed, I haven't really been able to update regularly in the last few weeks and unfortunately it will probably stay that way for a while. I'm approaching the end of my semester at uni once again and what can I say? It gets stressful. But without further ado, here is the next chapter.

If you had asked Montparnasse about two weeks ago where he would have seen himself on this fine Thursday night (another Thursday he wouldn’t spend at the movie’s, mind you), he would have guessed everywhere, everywhere but a tiny bookstore at the 37 Rue de la Bûcherie in the middle of Paris that went by the name of “Valjean’s”. Something about that name appeared familiar, but he couldn’t quite place what it was.

When he entered the store, he couldn’t immediately make out Jehan in the crowd that had already formed itself around the amateurishly set up stage. There were quite some people around, certainly more than Montparnasse had expected but it also seemed as if every other person in this room strained the capacity of it. 

There were towers upon towers of old, yellowed books stacked on each other and the moldy, dusty smell of them lingered in the air. The light was dimmed, even though Montparnasse couldn’t imagine it ever being particularly light in this place considering that every other window was covered with even more books. How anyone was supposed to find their way around this store was a riddle to him.  
For a moment Montparnasse just stood around in a mostly vacant corner, not entirely sure what to do with himself. The two women next to him chattered away. Eventually, he just couldn’t stand their pretentious discussion about, what appeared to be, Donna Tartt’s The Goldfinch anymore, so he went off, suddenly determined to find Jehan. Or at least let them know that he showed up.

When he was finally able to make out shiny red hair and an oversized, brownish coloured, knitted sweater, he sighed in relief. Jehan seemed to spot him about the same time he did and shot him an, at this point, all too familiar, gleeful smile. “You came,” they exclaimed in a mixture of joy and amazement.

“Of course, I came,” he replied, his voice ever so scratchy. He cleared his throat, before continuing, “So, how do these things work?”

“Poetry Slams?” they asked for clarification. When he simply nodded in confirmation, they carried on, “Today we don’t really have a formal Slam. Normally there’s judges and stuff at these things-“

“I thought there were no winners and losers in poetry,” he interrupted. Jehan only rolled their eyes in silent amusement before saying, “Well there aren’t for me. Besides, as I wanted to say, this isn’t anything official. We don’t have the capacity to host anything that huge here and it’s Christmas. As I already told you, this is just for fun. Anyone can participate, really.”

He hummed. There wasn’t really anything he could add to that and he wasn’t too keen on resuming the conversation about this…event, because if Jehan’s look was anything to go by they still hoped for him to join in on all this madness.

“Speaking of,” they suddenly said, “I have to start off this evening.”

With that Jehan once again vanished in the crowd, just to appear on stage a few moments later. They gave a little speech about how pleased they were that everyone had shown up and how the evening would proceed. Montparnasse’s mind had drifted off the moment Jehan started to introduce the speakers of the night.

The so-called Slam started off with a man talking about climate change in a surprisingly entertaining way, another man recalled his high school years from the perspective of a typical outcast, a woman then started to talk about her experience with drug addiction, from where they then moved on to a young woman who had wrote a piece about a soft, yellow blanket which apparently also worked as an ode to her recently deceased cat. It ended with her hysterically sobbing and Montparnasse wasn’t sure if he was supposed to feel sorry for her or chuckle in astonishment of the turn this evening had taken. 

He wasn’t familiar with the concept of poetry slams, but he hadn’t expected them to be quite so honest. People shared disturbingly personal stuff on that stage and while he would have normally felt highly uncomfortable by that, he could actually find appreciation for this kind of self-expression.

Jehan was currently helping the still sobbing woman down the stage, before coming back up again on their own. Montparnasse felt himself lean forward the slightest bit. This was what he had been waiting for all night. He had already been curious to hear some original work of his little poet, but after seeing all of these strangers share private and vulnerable information, he was even more intrigued to see what Jehan had prepared.

Jehan stepped forward, so close to the microphone that their lips almost touched it, and inhaled deeply before starting in a slow, rhythmic voice.

_I am just what you see  
Not average,  
Not extraordinary.  
I’m just a bird flying in the sky  
Colorful plumage  
And head held high.  
I’m just a joyful poet  
you look down on  
Lovingly, funnily.  
Because I am just what you see.  
I am just what you make me out to be._

_Not quite broad  
But I ain't frail,  
Voice neither deep,  
Nor too shrill.  
No noticeable scars,  
For you to perceive.  
Because I am just what you see.  
I am just what you make me out to be._

_It’s a struggle, it’s a poem.  
One I’ve been writing in my head for years.  
One without an end or a beginning,  
One without words for you to hear.  
Because no words,  
could possibly depict  
Just who I am,  
Besides what you see  
And make me out to be._

_See inside,  
Beneath my surface,  
Reckless chemicals about to react.  
Lights flashing in a darkened room.  
A mirror cracked,  
In seven pieces,  
A dream you can’t wake up from. _

_Inside,  
A Pandora’s Box  
Or a cage without a key.  
Trapped in my mind,  
Behind the binary.  
So long have I tried to break free  
from what you want to see.  
But there is no way out for me,  
Out of this reality,  
Out of what you make me out to be._

It didn’t happen often, but Montparnasse was truly and utterly speechless. During Jehan’s presentation, people around him had quieted down. All seemingly enthralled by their words. There was some enthusiastic applause erupting after Jehan finished, but Montparnasse couldn’t even bring himself to clap. Not that applause wasn’t appropriate in this situation. On the contrary, it was very much deserved.

But Montparnasse, he was absolutely starstruck. This was so much more than he had anticipated. 

Jehan had just shared some of their most private thoughts. They had laid themselves out bare. Naked. Vulnerable. And most people in this room probably didn’t even notice.

They didn’t notice what those words meant to Jehan and they most certainly didn’t notice how they seemed to have closed themself off from the people around them the moment they had stepped off of this stage. Jehan’s eyes seemed to stare in to an invisible void, not quite focusing on their surroundings. Some people approached Jehan, giving them smiles and pats on their back, but Jehan didn’t even to fully register that.

Slowly but surely Montparnasse made his way over and once he reached them, he asked “Wanna get out of here?”

It took Jehan some time to respond, clearly still lost in their mind.

“I don’t know if I can just leave. Monsieur Valjean…he only agreed on hosting this event because I asked him too. I’d be terribly rude of me to just leave.”

“Okay. But you really do look like you could need some air.”

And because Jehan couldn’t really argue this point, or maybe they just didn’t care enough to, they nodded and the both of them left quietly through the back door. Montparnasse didn’t end up taking Jehan home. They didn’t even leave the district. In reality they just stood outside of the bookstore, Montparnasse quietly smoking a cigarette he found in his coat earlier, and Jehan still deeply preoccupied with their thoughts.

“I’m going home for New Year’s,” they suddenly said. Montparnasse didn’t really think Jehan would be interested in another conversation that night, but he never seemed to be able to tell what was on their mind anyways.

“Sounds nice.”  
Jehan let out an unamused huff that sounded almost sarcastic. Montparnasse wasn’t used to this side of Jehan, this darker, bitter side. He didn’t like it. It irritated him.

“Nice…Yeah if you want to call it that.”

“You don’t get along with your family?”

“No, that’s-,” they hesitated, “that’s not it. It’s just complicated.”

Montparnasse considered them for a moment before saying “Perfect. I love complicated.” Jehan actually smiled at that, which in Montparnasse’s book, counted as a triumph.

“I should get back in. I’ve been out here for far too long. You don’t have to stay. I’ve been stealing too much of your time already,” they said after a moment of silence, clearly dodging his implied question. But Montparnasse wasn’t a noisy person and he could get a hint, so he didn’t try to pressure them further.

“I didn’t mind,” he simply said and Jehan smiled at him once again.

“You’re awfully sweet. Sorry I couldn’t be of better company tonight.”

“Are you alright?” he wasn’t one to ask questions like that normally, but this time he actually cared about the answer.

“Yeah, yeah or…I will be. It’s just not a good day, I guess.”

He hummed knowingly. Jehan looked at him a moment longer, before getting up on their tip toes and pressing their cold lips to his cheek.

“Goodnight, Parnasse,” Jehan said quietly, their voice not much above a whisper, before turning around and slipping back in through the door.

Montparnasse stood there a bit longer, looking after them and wondering if he should really leave them on their own. But eventually, he turned around and made his way back home. They were fine, he told himself, or at least they would be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this was a bit more melancholic (and also shorter) than usual and that's only the beginning, becuase we're entering angsty territory. But don't worry, it wont get too bad.  
> Also, please let's just pretend that Jehan's poem was actually as mindblowing as Montparnasse makes it out to be. I'm not a poet but I really gave my best here.  
> As always, I hope you enjoyed and hopefully until next time. I'm always happy to hear what you think of the story. You can also come talk to me on [tumblr](https://redasrevolution.tumblr.com/).


	7. New Year’s

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Little disclaimer before we head into this chapter. Jehan discusses their experience with coming out to their parents as non-binary and their quite poor reaction to that. It's nothing too explicit and rather short, but I wanted to give you a heads up nevertheless.
> 
> If you want to skip this chapter however, you can. Plotwise there is really not happening that much in this chapter.

On the morning of New Year’s Montparnasse lounged around at home. It was his day off; he had made sure of that. Normally, there was quite a lot going on in the club on days like these but lately Montparnasse just couldn’t be bothered to deal with even more obnoxious drunk people than usual. 

Montparnasse had never been able to really get behind the idea of New Year’s. It was a day like any other. Nothing was changing. People still sucked; the world still wasn’t a better place. At the end of the day you would just be another day older, but if he could earn money through it, he certainly wouldn’t complain.

Coffee in one hand and the latest fashion magazine in the other, he only looked up from his place at the kitchen table, when Sous appeared from his room and made his way towards the front door.

“And where do you think you’re going?” 

Claquesous turned around and gave Montparnasse one of his infamous unimpressed stares before answering “I’m going to Babet’s. He’s sick and you know he’s unable to take care of himself. Who knows what’s going to happen if I don’t go over there.”

Montparnasse couldn’t suppress the amused smile that sneaked itself on his lips. “Smitten…” he mumbled just loud enough for Claquesous to hear.

Sous just gave him another unimpressed look, opened the door and threw a casual “You’re one to talk” over his shoulder on his way out. And well, he surely wasn’t wrong.

Montparnasse wasn’t able to get Jehan out of his head ever since the night of the poetry slam three days ago. They had seemed off and Montparnasse had never wanted to make someone feel better in his entire life. Since that night, they hadn’t talked with each other, not even texted, which at this point, was more than unusual. 

Jehan liked to share the most random thoughts with him and now there was complete silence on the other end. Montparnasse had considered reaching out to them, but he wasn’t particularly good in starting light conversations. Besides, he kept on telling himself, they were at their parent’s house. They were probably just busy. 

*

They day passed slowly. Montparnasse tried to keep himself busy. After he had finished reading his magazine, he zapped through Netflix, just to settle on a few old episodes of RuPaul’s Drag Race. But nothing could really hold his interest. He was bored. Normally, he would go and annoy Sous or listen to Jehan’s rambles, but both weren’t options at the moment. Montparnasse truly didn’t know how he had spent his days before he met Jehan.

It was after 11 pm, midnight approaching closer with each second and you could already hear the first few overeager people shooting fireworks, despite the rain that had started pouring a while ago, when his doorbell rang. 

A bit confused he got up from his place on the couch. He wasn’t expecting anyone and the group that made up his social life was either at work or worrying over their whatever it was that Babet and Sous were at this point. The only person he could imagine bursting in unannounced in the middle of the night would be Brujon and he wasn’t sure if he really wanted to take on whatever trouble it was that the younger man got himself into once again. However, he thought, maybe he would be able to find out if the boy had finally asked out Zelma. He could already see the horrified look on Éponine’s face at the prospect of that and the small sadistic part of Montparnasse’s heart was enjoying this thought a bit too much.

When he opened the door however, he was greeted with a sight that made his trace of a smile disappear immediately. The normally so joyful redhead in front of him, was looking at him with sorrowful eyes. Their hair and clothes drenched from the rain and the face even paler than usual.

“Hey,” they whispered and before Montparnasse really knew what he was doing, he had already ushered them inside, just to run off again into the bathroom. He quickly snatched a towel from his bathroom cabinet and went back into the living room where Jehan had already taken place on the couch. Montparnasse cringed internally at the thought of them sitting on his leather couch with their wet clothes but that was a worry for another day. He quickly draped the towel around them and asked “Tea?”. 

Jehan looked up from the empty space they had stared at up until then and seemed to only just now fully register who was standing in front of them. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

“Green? Black? Chamomile? What can I get you?” he asked softly.

“I think today is a day for Indian Masala Chai.” The way how absolutely serious they said that as if their choice in tea would make an actual difference in this situation should have been funny, but instead it only increased Montparnasse’s worry.

He went into the kitchen, putting the kettle on the oven, silently begging the water to just boil quicker while chewing absentmindedly on his lip. This was not good; oh this was the worst possible situation. Montparnasse was decent at having meaningless conversations and even more meaningless hookups. After he met Jehan, he had also figured out that he wasn’t too bad at building up a friendship and having an open ear, but comforting? Yeah, that wasn’t something he had ever been particularly keen on investing his time in. Normally, he would just avoid upset people, but this, this was something he couldn’t get out off. And if he really thought about it, about Jehan sitting drenched and sad on his couch, he wasn’t so sure if he even wanted to avoid it. 

When he came back into the living room, Jehan hadn’t moved an inch. They were still sitting at the corner of the couch, clutching the towel he had given them. Their eyes were puffy and red and they shivered. Montparnasse wasn’t sure if it was because of the cold or because of whatever it was that had happened to them.

He sat down next to them, slowly to make sure he wasn’t disturbing them. He offered Jehan the cup of tea and they immediately clasped their still shaking fingers around the offered warmth. After they sat there for a while in companionable silence, Montparnasse couldn’t ignore the elephant in the room any longer.

“Jehan, what are you doing here?”

This seemed to pull them out of their stupor for they answered quickly and obviously embarrassed “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to intrude. I just- I needed to get out, you know? I felt like I was going to choke and I just…I didn’t know where to go next. The moment I stepped off the train you came to my mind and I know it’s late and New Year’s on top of that. I shouldn’t have come over, I’m so sorry-“  
“Don’t be ridiculous,” interrupted Montparnasse the still rambling Jehan. He had never seen them quite so distraught and to think of the fact that Montparnasse was the first person they thought of in a situation like that…Yeah, no, that was a thought for later, “You’re not intruding. I’m just wondering why on earth you didn’t just take a cab over here or called me from the train station. I would have picked you up.”

“You have a car?”

“Of course,” he replied almost offended. What did they think? That he was going around using public transport like a regular? Moving back to the topic at hand he said, “You can always come to me.” This was so corny he thought he would choke on the words, but maybe Jehan’s quivering smile he got in return was worth his slight discomfort.

“I thought you wanted to stay with your family over New Year’s?” Montparnasse asked hesitantly, not wanting to force Jehan into another nervous rambling fit. But judging from Jehan’s reaction it wasn’t the wrong thing to say. They clearly wanted to get whatever it was that was on their mind off their chest. They sighed deeply before starting to explain. “I did, yes. And in the beginning, it was actually quite nice. I missed them. But eventually things just started going back to the usual and sometimes I can deal with it. I just shrug it off, you know? But this time it was different, I had been in a weird mood before I even went to see them, so maybe I was just overly sensitive, I don’t know…”

Montparnasse was completely and utterly lost. He was able to sense Jehan’s weird mood at the poetry slam, knew even back then that something was off, but just like on that night he had no idea what actually bothered Jehan and their vague explanation wasn’t helping either. 

“I don’t think I can follow.”

“I can’t…I just...I don’t know how to explain it to them, you know? I tried over and over again but they just don’t get it or they don’t want to get it, who even knows at this point. And I’m so tired of having to explain myself. Why can’t they just accept me for who I am?” 

Montparnasse was starting to suspect what they were talking about. “What did they say to you?”

“It wasn’t something they said necessarily. It was more the way the talk to me about it. They always pretend like I’m just making this up, talking about how they’re just from another generation, things like that just didn’t exist back then, which is absolute _bullshit_!-“ Montparnasse eyes widened ever so slightly with hearing Jehan curse, but they didn’t even seem to notice, “This is not a new invention. People might not have had a word for it back then or just weren’t comfortable with voicing their feelings but this, the way how I feel is nothing unusual.”

“Of course not, little poet. And they have no right telling you how to feel,” he responded calmly even though it felt like a storm was brewing in his insides. He wanted to strangle Jehan’s parents.  
“Exactly! And the worst part is, I never expected something like that from them. When I came out as gay back when I was 15, I got hugs and kisses and _We love you no matter what’s_ , but the moment I try to explain that I just don’t necessarily feel like a guy, or a girl for that matter, they think I’m just looking for attention. And sometimes I think, they actually try, in the best way they can at least, but I started to realize that maybe that just isn’t enough.” A tiny sob escaped their mouth and it was all that it took for Montparnasse to wrap the redhead into his embrace, “I just hoped it would change over time. I really thought they would eventually understand that this isn’t just a _phase_. Maybe let me truly explain the way I feel, but they always just brush it off.”

They stayed like this, wrapped up In each other, silence between them, nothing except the occasional noise from drunk strangers outside. Montparnasse played absentmindedly with Jehan’s still damp hair while they closed their eyes and placed their head on his chest. 

“I just don’t know what to say. I’m so sorry, Jehan,” muttered Montparnasse, not wanting to disturb the content silence that had settled between them, “I wish I could tell you that everything is going to be okay, but I can’t. I don’t know your parents, I don’t know what kind of people they are or if they will come around eventually. But I promise your there are people in your life who care about you and love you for who you are.” He pressed a soft kiss into their hair while he kept on stroking their back. Montparnasse felt them take in a deep breath.

“It’s…well, it’s not okay, but it will be. As long as I have my friends and you, I will be okay.”

“Oh? Am I not considered one of your friends? You wound me, little poet,” Montparnasse said teasingly.

“I think we’ve established that that’s not all we are, don’t you think?” they simply stated and Montparnasse really hoped they couldn’t hear how these words made his heartbeat quicken. Because that was exactly what Montparnasse worried so much about, wasn’t it? Getting too attached. Letting himself admit that whatever it was they were was something that he not only wanted but needed at this point.  
Jehan continued before he could even think of an answer “You know, you never told me about your family.” 

Montparnasse huffed self-deprecatingly, “If you’re looking for a way to be cheered up, that’s not it.”

“I know. I don’t always need cheerfulness.”

“It’s a long and complicated story about a boy who moved from one shit situation into another, featuring various foster homes, a surprising amount of frustration and a dash of misery. It really isn’t a story to start the New Year with.”

Jehan remained silent for so long that Montparnasse was almost sure they had fallen asleep, but eventually their fingers started tracing slow circles on his chest and they murmured, “No rush. Whenever you’re ready.”

When they could hear people starting to count down the last seconds of the remaining year, Jehan lifted their head and with the clock striking 12, pressed a firm, lingering kiss on his cheeks. They then went back to their original position, curling up around him and Montparnasse tried to suppress the shiver that made its way up his spine. He considered, even if it was just for a second, how easy it would be to lift their head and press an actual kiss on their lips, let his hand sink in their hair and coax wonderful sounds of pleasure out of them. But he couldn’t. He wanted to, oh how he wanted to, but seeing them like this tonight had finally made Montparnasse realize that they truly weren’t all sugar and spice and everything nice. They had suffered greatly and he wasn’t willing to make them endure more misery, because just like he said that was what the most part of his life had been made out of. This was why he couldn’t have nice things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, so this was a bit different from the chapters before. But don't worry I don't plan to stay in the angsty territory for too long.  
> If you want to come and talk to me you can find me on [tumblr](https://redasrevolution.tumblr.com/).


	8. Wish you were here

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Technically, I should be working on my term paper right now, but I wrote this chapter instead and thought I might as well post it. I'm not sure if I'm actually happy with the outcome, but I hope you still enjoy!

The next morning was weird. In more than one sense. Montparnasse had woken up with an aching back from the long night on the couch and Jehan still wrapped around him, sleeping tightly with their face pressed into his neck. 

Montparnasse thanked all the gods above that Claquesous had apparently not come back home yet. He would have never let Montparnasse live that down. 

After he slowly entangled himself from Jehan, careful as not to wake them, he simply proceeded to stare, because what the actual fuck was he going to do now? This was an entirely new situation for him. Waking up beside someone and not wanting to push them off his bedside, or rather his couch in this particular situation, was new. It frightened him so much that he wished he could just make a run for it, at least that was something he was good at, but he couldn’t. Because this was his apartment and more importantly, even though he tried to silence the tiny voice in his head, he didn’t want to. First of all, because it was Jehan and who in their right mind would run from them? And secondly, because they had had a rough night and he wanted to make sure they were alright. He even considered offering them a hug first thing when they would finally wake up.

When they did finally stir and woke with a quiet yawn and their hands rubbing their tired eyes, Montparnasse didn’t offer them a hug. He was too busy pretending he hadn’t just watch them sleep for about half an hour like a giant creep. 

“Morning,” they said silently, the voice still raspy from sleep.

“Morning,” he answered. Even to his own ears it sounded weirdly tense. Jehan gave him a considering look but chose not to say anything about the way Montparnasse was perched on the armrest of the couch, the tightness in his shoulders and the crease on his forehead clearly visible.

“Are you hungry? Or do you want tea?” Montparnasse offered but Jehan must have sensed that something was off because they declined the offer and got up. They grabbed their coat which was still damp and Montparnasse accompanied them to the door. Jehan gave him another considering look but whatever it was that they had on their mind, they didn’t say anything besides “I’ll text you” before turning around and walking down the stairs. It wasn’t until Montparnasse closed the door behind them that he realized Jehan hadn’t kissed his cheek this time.

*

The days after that passed by slowly. He wished he could say he didn’t miss his little poet but truth be told he’d reached a point at which he was unable to even imagine what his life had been like before Jehan stepped into it.

He wanted to reach out to them. Tell them about the most mundane things. He wanted to tell them about the book he had just picked up. Challenger Deep by Neal Shusterman. A recommendation from Jehan. He wanted to tell them about Sous and how the man had stumbled in shortly after Jehan had left. Not exactly grinning, but with a joyful look in his eyes and a few more purple marks down his neck. He wanted to tell them about Gavroche and Azelma, about Éponine and even about himself. He wanted to tell them that he missed them. Yet he didn’t. He chose to stay silent instead.

Not that any of that stopped Jehan from reaching out. They texted like they always did. Spontaneously and without an actual purpose behind it. The texts only grew less frequent the longer Montparnasse didn’t answer. Eventually a few concerned questions of ‘Are you okay?’ and ‘Did I do something wrong?’ popped up. But even those were left unanswered.

He knew it was cruel. But he had warned them that he was a vile man. He had warned them and they hadn’t listened. At the end of the day it was better like that. They were too different anyways. Éponine had said so herself. Like day and night. Something like that just couldn’t work, right?

They would get over it eventually and he would as well. Better break things off before either one of them could get too attached. Montparnasse knew this could only end in tears and heartbreak. And he wouldn’t do that to Jehan if he could prevent it.

New Year’s had showed him that he couldn’t just go on like this any longer. That he couldn’t just pretend like this situation didn’t exist. Jehan was a real person, with real feelings that had been hurt before. And that they had come straight to him while they were upset? Of course, he felt flattered, exhilarated even, but it also made clear that he had been too careless. He had lost himself in the illusion that he could go on like this forever and while doing so he had gone into dangerous territory. He had crossed a line, but it wasn’t too late to take step back.

He had to accept it once and for all. Men like him just weren’t made for love.

Montparnasse became even more unbearable than usual in the following days. Not only he noticed that his mood was changing for the worse but his friends as well. Babet tried to approach him once after Montparnasse almost smashed his laptop because of an particularly long update. 

He shoved him off, maybe a bit harsher than necessary, but Babet simply retreated. He did however send him concerned looks every other minute and moved on to whispering with Sous who looked a lot more worried as well.

Éponine looked at him strangely as well during their weekly lunch but where Babet and Sous had looked concerned, she looked downright vicious. 

“What did you do?” she asked him harshly after her siblings had already moved on to the living room. They were about to clean up, so he kept his eyes on the dirty dishes in front of him and answered, “What do you mean?”.

“Jehan, idiot. I mean Jehan. They’ve been unnaturally down lately and you’ve been moping around as well. So, again, what the fuck did you do?” She was beginning to lose her nerve at this point but he didn’t want to talk to her about this. She wouldn’t understand.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he responded. Maybe it was his words, maybe his forced sense of indifference, but whatever it was, it caused her to completely lose it.  
“Are you fucking kidding me right now? Is that how you want to go about this? You know, sometimes I really can’t believe you. I know I was sceptic about you two but you seemed to get along so well. During Christmas I really started to think that maybe you guys weren’t such a strange combination after all. I realized that you care for each other and that you’re good for each other-“ he snorted at that. Good for each other. Sure, as if he was providing anything positive for Jehan’s life. But making any sound at all was apparently the wrong move. Éponine took a deep breath before she threw her towel in a corner and started collecting her things. “You know what?” she said, “just forget it. It’s no use. You will keep pushing away the people who care about you anyway. And I’m fed up. The world doesn’t only revolve around you Parnasse, it’s about time you learn that.”

With that she was out of the room. He only heard her scream “Gav, Zelma, we’re going!” before the front door slammed shut behind her.

*

“Okay, I’ve got enough of your moping already,” Claquesous said to him the following day. Montparnasse was sitting on the roof staring over the rooftops of Paris for hours already. He vaguely noticed the numbness in his cold fingertips, but he couldn’t be asked to care. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he responded once again. Claquesous only raised an eyebrow at him before settling down next to him.

“Éponine didn’t believe that bullshit and I won’t either.”

“Oh. So, you’ve-“ he trailed off.

“I’m pretty sure everyone heard. You weren’t exactly discreet,” the other man said in his usual calming manner. Maybe it was because of that or maybe it was because Montparnasse knew Sous wouldn’t pressure him into baring his soul that he started to talk.

“I fucked up, Sous. Big time.”

“Is that why you aren’t talking to Jehan anymore?” Claquesous asked. Montparnasse gave him a surprised look that the other man answered with another rise of his eyebrows as if to say _‘You’re not as mysterious as you think’_. And it was then that Montparnasse realized that in regards to Claquesous this might actually be true. He had always been able to read him like an open book.

“Actually, me not talking to Jehan is my way of trying to make things right.” Now it was Claquesous’ time to look surprised. He didn’t say anything though which is why Montparnasse chose to go on.  
“They came to me on New Year’s and told me some pretty personal stuff. And I cared a lot. Like more than I expected. I got really angry at the people who caused them so much pain. I know it sounds confusing if you don’t know the whole story but…”

“But it’s not your place to tell me. I get it,” Claquesous concluded and Montparnasse smiled at him thankfully, “But I still don’t see the problem. You care about their wellbeing. That’s not really a reason to have a crisis.”

“The problem is that I wanted to tell them shit too. Like they asked me about my family and stuff and I didn’t say anything but there was a moment in which I thought that maybe it wouldn’t be so bad telling them what happened. To me. To us. You know.”

“That I do,” responded Claquesous but refrained from adding anything else. Montparnasse, in attempt to be able to bare the quiet more easily, reached for his cigarettes in his coat pocket. His hands were shaking and the cold had numbed his fingers so much that he was hardly able to get one out of the package. In the end Sous had to lit it for him.

They sat in comfortable silence for a while until Montparnasse made his mind up about what he wanted to say. 

“How do you do it?” he eventually asked, “With Babet, I mean. How can you just trust another person with all of that?” Montparnasse made a vague hand gesture to emphasize his point.

“Well, part of that is that he was always there with us along the way. He knows what went on. He experienced all of it first hand,” Claquesous offered hesitantly, “Of course, I’ve got my own demons as well and I didn’t open up about all of that straight away. But I slowly eased into it. I only ever offered him parts of myself that I was willing to give up. Step for step. And he did the same in return.”

“So, you found a middle ground?”

“Pretty much, yeah,” he responded, “You don’t have to bare your whole soul to them straight away, you know. But I can tell you like them. A lot. And you’d probably regret it for the rest of your life if you didn’t at least give yourself the chance to feel something like this.”

“He’s right,” came the answer from behind him. Montparnasse twirled around in surprise and only allowed himself to catch a breath again when he realized it was Éponine who had been talking. She stood awkwardly at the stairway with tense shoulders and a slightly strained smile. He hadn’t expected to see her again so early after the argument they had had the day before.

“What are you doing here? How did you even get in?” Montparnasse asked and he probably sounded angrier than he intended if her helpless wince was any indication to go by. But Éponine wasn’t known for backing down so she made her way over to them and sat down besides Montparnasse.

“I know where you keep your spare key,” she said slowly drifting back into her usual teasing tone.

He looked at her a while longer but he couldn’t keep a straight face for too long and soon he felt his lips twitch. She smiled as well; a lot brighter than just a few seconds ago. Slowly she took his hand and squeezed it quickly. The gesture was clear. _I’m here. I’m sorry. I messed up._

“I overreacted,” Éponine said, “It wasn’t my place to get mixed up in your personal business and I shouldn’t have judged a situation that I had no knowledge about.”

He squeezed her hand as well. “You were right though,” he offered in his attempt of an apology, “I did shut them out. I guess I got scared.”

“And I should have realized that instead of riling you up.”

“Okay are you done being sappy now? You guys make me sick,” said Claquesous next to him. Éponine laughed loudly and even Montparnasse couldn’t suppress a snicker. Éponine rested her head on his shoulder and together the three of them looked at the foggy city that lay in front of them.

The next time Montparnasse lifted his hand to his mouth to take a drag of his cigarette, Éponine snatched it away. After filling her lungs with smoke and letting it out again into the cold winter air she said, “I meant it though. Sous is right. You care about Jehan. Every idiot can see that and I don’t want you to miss a chance at happiness just because your stubborn head makes up excuses again why this is a bad idea.”

“But what if it is?” he asked quietly, “What if I mess this up? What if everything goes to shit?”

“Then we’ll be there to pick up the pieces with you,” said Claquesous. And well, how could he argue that? After everything that had happened, he knew there was one thing he could always be sure about and that was the support of his friends. His family. 

“Okay Sous is right; this is getting way too sappy. Tell me something else,” Montparnasse offered when the quiet of his thought suddenly seemed like too much.

“Well, I actually wanted to tell you already yesterday, but then-“ started Éponine and Montparnasse offered an understanding nod. “Anyways,” she continued “Cosette asked me out.”

“She did what now?” exclaimed Montparnasse around the same time that Sous said “About time.”

“Yeah, well, we haven’t decided when or where we’re going to yet, but yeah, this is happening.”

“I’m glad,” answered Montparnasse and squeezed her hand encouragingly again. She slightly bumped her shoulder into his. He was happy that at least his friends’ love life was working out. 

“You better help me pick out an outfit though,” she added with a smile and now it was his turn to laugh.

“Bold of you to assume I would let you choose what to wear in the first place. We want this this date to be a success after all, don’t we?” She bumped his shoulder again, this time a lot harder and added a halfhearted “Shut up!”.

After they had spent another hour on the rooftop and came back down only because the cold became too unbearable, he made a decision. The moment Sous and Éponine went into the kitchen to make some tea and heat up dinner, he pulled out his phone.

**M: I think we need to talk.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone's interested, I made a Spotify playlist for this fic a while back which you can check out [here](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/1z1lRA77tkaW8IgeRWtYHY?si=fNUx1wybSGm_X3Rj7bQhCg).  
> Also, as always, come talk to me on [tumblr](https://redasrevolution.tumblr.com/).  
> I hope you enjoyed today's update and I swear next time you'll get all the fluff.


	9. Finding a middle ground

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, anyone still here? I know I've been gone for a while. Sorry. If you're still here, thanks for sticking around. I hope you enjoy this chapter.

He had expected an answer. Maybe not straight away but slightly delayed caused by his dramatic behavior. He would have deserved it, honestly. He had behaved like an absolute asshole after all. What Montparnasse had not expected though, was for Jehan to turn up on his doorstep the same night.

He had been eating dinner with Claquesous and Éponine when the doorbell rang. When he got up and answered the door Jehan had stood there. Beautiful as ever. Dressed in a lilac sweater that was decorated with yellow daisies and their hair pulled up into a messy bun, they looked more stunning than ever.

It was then that Montparnasse realized how much he had truly missed his little poet. Before he had a chance to react in any way to their presence, they already spoke “I’m ready to talk.”

“Should we…ehm…maybe go for a walk?” asked Montparnasse in a horribly awkward fashion.

“A walk sounds good,” they responded. He couldn’t really make out their mood. They seemed careful not to give anything away and it was strange for him to see them so guarded. Montparnasse didn’t waste any more time. He quickly grabbed his coat and followed Jehan outside. It wasn’t until later that he noticed that he never even told his friends where he was going. However, knowing them they probably had been noisy enough to listen in on their conversation anyways.

Jehan and him walked through the vacant streets of his district. It never seized to surprise him how some parts of Paris could be filled to the brim with tourists all day and night long and how some were almost deserted. Montparnasse looked over to Jehan where they were quietly walking next to him. Hands buried in their coat and their eyes fixed on the pavement. 

Montparnasse didn’t know how to start this conversation. He didn’t know how to put into words what he felt, what was currently making his mind spin. But even just having Jehan beside him made everything so much better. He finally felt his tense shoulders relax after days of worrying and overthinking. It felt like he could finally breathe again. It just felt so _right_.

And that’s when it actually fully hit him. It wasn’t like he didn’t know before, but right then was when he embraced the feeling, when he finally accepted it. He hadn’t just missed Jehan because they were his friend or because he was physically attracted to them. He had been attracted to a lot of people throughout his life and he knew normally that that wore off after a while.

But this, this was different. 

He had missed them scrunching up their nose whenever they laughed at his poor attempt of humor. He had missed them beaming at him whenever they managed to get a laugh out of him in return. He had missed their sense of enthusiasm. He had missed them rambling about poetry. He had missed their hair, their eyes and even their ugly sweaters. He had missed Jehan as a whole.

He had missed them so fucking much that it hurt. Because, and he realized that now, he was in love with them. Fully and properly in love.

“I’m sorry,” he blurted out all of the sudden. Jehan startled, obviously not expecting him to actually start the conversation, “I acted like an absolute dick.”

“But why? What did I do wrong?” they asked quietly and unsure. He stared at them in total bewilderment. Was that what they thought? That they had done something to upset him?! 

“Nothing. You didn’t do anything wrong, Jehan. Believe me, it was me who couldn’t handle the situation.”

“What situation tough? All I remember is me bothering you on New Year’s and you shutting me out completely the next day.” And well, shit. Montparnasse hadn’t thought about it this way. He had been so preoccupied with his own thoughts that he hadn’t even thought about what impression his behavior must have made on Jehan. He seriously was a dick.

“Don’t ever think that you’re a bother to me, okay? Because you aren’t. You’re pretty much the opposite.”

“I don’t know if I understand,” they said, now visibly confused.

“What I’m trying to say is,” he took a deep breath, “Shit, why is this so fucking hard? I’m trying to tell you that I like you Jehan. A lot. More than I initially thought, more than I wanted to let myself like you and I guess I got scared.”

“Scared? Of me? That’s a first,” they chuckled and the confusion painted across their face only moments ago vanished slowly, “For the record, I like you a lot too.”

“You do?” Montparnasse asked and he was seriously questioning if this wasn’t a dream after all. It wasn’t that he was completely surprised that Jehan felt that way about him. They had been tiptoeing around each other for weeks now, both aware that there was something between them but neither had been courageous enough to do something about it. Until now.

“Yes, Parnasse. I’m pretty sure I did ever since I first laid eyes on you, but I knew you weren’t ready yet.”

“So, you waited for me to get my shit together?” 

They softly chuckled again, “You could say that, yes. And it was worth it don’t you think?”

“I’m not sure, Jehan,” their smile faltered slightly, “I’m not sure if I’m worth your time. Look what I did to us already in the last few days and nothing major even happened. How do you expect me to deal with this?”

“This? What do you mean by this?”

“I don’t know. You. Me. We. I’ve never been part of a We before. I don’t know how to be.”

“There’s no instruction manual, Parnasse,” Jehan said. They had stopped walking and were facing him now. Slowly Jehan took his hand. It was surprisingly warm in his, “I like you. And I want to try this with you, but only if you’re up to it. If not, we can pretend this conversation never happened and stick with being friends as hard as that would be, but if you’d like to try this…What I’m trying to say is, I don’t know how to do this either. We can do this slowly if you want, one step after the other. What are you so scared of?”

He looked at them closely. Their brown eyes wide, cheeks rosy from the cold and a look of pure adoration directed at no other than him. How easy it would be to let himself fall into this. How easy it would be to love them, but that was the thing, wasn’t it? It was so easy that it was scary.

“I know,” Montparnasse said after a moment of consideration, “as soon as I give into you, into this, I won’t be able to turn away again.”

“And is that what you want? To turn away?”

“No, little poet,” he huffed desperate for them to understand, “that’s the thing. I don’t and that has never happened to me before.”

“Then for once in your life, let yourself have this, Parnasse,” Jehan said with emphasis. They squeezed his hand encouragingly. Their eyes somewhere in between hopeful and desperate.

“I’m not sure I can. You don’t know everything about me yet...I’m not a good person.”

“You’ve only ever treated me with kindness and respect. Besides,” they smiled, “I don’t think anything could make me turn away from you at this point.”

“As I said you don’t know everything about me yet.” Somewhere in the back of his mind he could practically hear Éponine scream at him to finally shut up, to just go through with this because how much more arguing would Jehan actually going to endure before taking back their offer. But he had to make sure, he had to know they knew that he wasn’t all sugar and rainbows. That there was a darker part within him that was about to stay no matter how much time would pass.

“And you don’t know everything about me,” Jehan answered, “that’s the great part of getting to know each other. Parnasse, I’m not asking you to marry me. I ask you to give us a chance. I know it’s scary, but we’ll be in it together. One step after the other. I’m willing to wait for you for however long it takes.”

And well, if that didn’t do some funny things to his insides.

“One step after the other?” he repeated. Jehan nodded in confirmation, “I think I can do that.”

Montparnasse thought he knew all variations of Jehan’s smiles, but they were nothing compared to the one he received in this moment. It was bright, happy and so full of love and admiration that it took his breath away. Slowly they wrapped their arms around him and buried their face in his chest. Montparnasse closed his eyes and rested his head on theirs. He could have stayed like this forever, wrapped in Jehan’s embrace in companionable silence.

With Jehan’s face nestled in his chest he felt their next words more than he heard them but he recognized them still, “And when the abyss looks into you - and it will - may you look back unflinching.” If possible, Montparnasse tightened his grip around them even more in a way of confirmation. Of saying, _I will. For you I will, I promise_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promised I would make this chapter a lot fluffier and I hope you're all happy with how it turned out. I can't believe these two finally got their shit together.  
> In case you're wondering, the line Jehan quotes at the end of this chapter is from Neal Shusterman's _Challenger Deep_ , the book Montparnasse mentioned in Chapter 8. It's an incredible novel that I highly recommend.  
> As always, I hope you enjoyed and feel free to come talk to me on [tumblr](https://redasrevolution.tumblr.com/).


	10. Easing into it

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been 84 years...

“And you’re really going to be there tomorrow?” Jehan asked in no more than a whisper through the speaker of Montparnasse’s phone. They had been doing that a lot lately. Calling each other that was. Sometimes in the morning before Jehan started their shift at the bookshop, sometimes during their 30-minute break, sometimes in the evening before Montparnasse opened the club, but always at night before they went to bed. 

They had also been spending more time with each other in general. They went to the movies, Jehan dragged him to a museum once and Montparnasse got them tickets for some staging of Shakespeare’s _Hamlet_ because he knew Jehan had meant to go for some time already. They were properly doing this. Dating. Montparnasse had never imagined himself as being someone’s boyfriend but here he was and surprisingly, he quiet liked the feeling.

They were easing into it. Step after step just as Jehan had said. Montparnasse still hadn’t told them everything about himself but Jehan never pressured him into offering up more than he was willing to give. Instead Montparnasse revealed little secrets about himself that only the closest of his friends knew about. Nothing major, but it was a start. That’s how Jehan learned that Montparnasse only drank his coffee with at least three packets of sugar and a cup of milk. That he had a downright obsession with _Florence + The Machine_ but couldn’t hold a tune to save his life. That the ring he wore on his little finger was a gift from Éponine that he had gotten on his 18th birthday and that she probably stole somewhere, but that in a weird way this fact alone made it even more precious to him. And they even got to see him without his usual dose of hair gel. Only once. Late at night. But again, it was a start.

It had only been two weeks, yet Montparnasse couldn’t imagine his life in any other way anymore. He was truly and thoroughly happy. There had been more physical contact between them as well. Again, nothing major. Just holding hands and a lot of hugs. Getting used to this, to each other. Montparnasse felt like a 13-year-old school girl with a crush but somehow he liked how slowly things were progressing. Somehow it made things seem even more real, even more precious.

Kissing Jehan was something he had imagined so often already, yet he still hadn’t worked up to it so far. Crossing that last line was somehow the biggest hurdle. After that there would truly be no more going back. Not that there was any way how he could have gone back even now. He was far too gone already.

“I told you I would, so I will be,” answered Montparnasse after a pause that felt far longer than he had intended to make Jehan wait. He felt his eyelids getting heavier by the second and a quick glance at the alarm clock on his bedside table made him realize that it was almost 2am. They had been talking for almost two hours already. “I really want to try this Jehan.”

“I like you saying that,” they said, audibly having to hold back a yawn.

“What?”

“My name. I like how you say my name.”

“Well, Jehan. I’ll be sure to remember that.”

They were both quiet for a while, so long that Montparnasse would have almost drifted off to sleep when Jehan spoke again, “Parnasse.”

“Mmh?” he hummed but Jehan on the other end remained silent, “Jehan? You still there?”

“Yeah, I’m just- I’m really happy we’re giving this a shot.” Montparnasse smiled and felt sorry that Jehan didn’t actually lay next to him right then. In that moment he really would’ve liked to change the fact that they hadn’t kissed yet.

“Me too, little poet, me too.”

“So, I’m seeing you tomorrow?” Jehan asked for about the fifth time that evening.

“Yes, you will.”

“Thanks. For joining us, I mean. I know it’s not really you’re thing.”

“I told you already,” said Montparnasse, “I’m trying my best. Goodnight Jehan.”

“Goodnight Parnasse.”

Montparnasse couldn’t remember for sure but he felt like it only took him seconds to drift off to sleep after they hung up.

*

Montparnasse had never seen himself as a part of a movement. He didn’t care about any larger cause and even when Feuilly had asked him over and over to join one of his little protests, he had refused. He didn’t need to be reminded about the unfairness of the world. He knew well enough.

Somehow however, Jehan had convinced him to show up to one of those protests and he knew immediately that it had been a mistake to do so. It was cold, rain was pouring down and he already mourned his leather boots. 

Montparnasse made his way through the gathering crowd, passing a group of young women holding up different signs. One of them said “Sorry for the inconvenience we are trying to change the world”, the second read “Love has no gender” while another simply stated “I can fuck whoever the fuck I like”. Not very subtle, but then again that was probably the whole point of it. Montparnasse still wondered why they didn’t just sign some petitions like the rest of the world. He was downright freezing, again having chosen the stylish instead of the practical option, like an idiot. He never thought the day would come that he would envy someone else for a quilted jacket, but there he was. 

When he had finally fought his way through the crowd to the center, where someone had amateurishly set up some kind of stage, his eyes fell on a vaguely familiar, freckled face.

“Hey you,” Montparnasse addressed him, “you’re part of this whole ordeal, aren’t you?”

“Huh?” was the guy’s very intelligent response, “yeah…ehm...I am, I mean.”

“Have you seen Jehan by any chance?”

“Yeah…ehm…they’re helping out with setting everything up I believe.”

“Ah.”

“You know…ehm…,” the guy continued, “I’m really glad you decided to join us. I know it means a lot to Jehan.”

The other man looked so proud of himself for saying two sentences without stuttering or blushing like some medieval maiden that Montparnasse almost felt bad for his following words.

“I’m sorry, but who are you again?”

The guy turned a bright shade of red and his eyes widened comically, “Marius. Marius Pontmercy. We…eh…met at the Christmas party.”

Montparnasse didn’t even try to be rude but he genuinely didn’t remember ever being introduced to someone named Marius. “Did we now?” he asked and somehow it made the other man blush even more. He looked as if he was about to pass out from embarrassment when another voice chimed into their conversation.

“He’s just messing with you Marius,” intervened Feuilly, coming up next to him. Marius let his dumbfounded eyes wander between the two of them before hurriedly leaving to who knows where. Montparnasse turned his attention to Feuilly.

“I didn’t though. I have genuinely no idea who that is.”

Feuilly rolled his eyes and sighed deeply before answering. “Doesn’t matter. He has to deal with enough anxiety already even without your shenanigans.”

“Ugh. Whatever,” Montparnasse replied, “So, when is all of this finally starting? It’s fucking freezing.”

“Combeferre is just checking all the tech again and then we should be good to go. There will be a few speeches to start everything off and then we’ll march together.” Feuilly then looked him up and down, slowly taking in his appearance and visibly having to hold back a smile. Shaking his head, he said “Didn’t you check the weather before you left the house? No wonder you’re freezing. You’re gonna catch a cold.”

“Bite me,” answered Montparnasse eloquently as ever through chattering teeth. 

Feuilly laughed goodheartedly and slung an arm around Montparnasse’s shoulders. The shorter man leaned into the touch. Just quickly. And only because of the other man’s persuading warmth, of course.

“Lucky for you, I packed some hot chocolate. Come on, let’s get you warmed up.”

Feuilly guided him to a group of people which as Montparnasse discovered only mere seconds later, was made out of the same people he met at the Christmas party. Among them was Jehan, climbing down the stage while having an animated conversation with Bahorel. Instant relief washed over him when he recognized the familiar face among the mass of people. As if they had felt his stare, Jehan’s gaze wandered over to him, catching his eyes in an instant. 

With a few quick words that Montparnasse wasn’t able to catch they moved away from their conversation with the much bigger man and made their way over to him. Moments later they were within Montparnasse’s reach and without even think about it, he opened his arms to draw them into his embrace. Jehan’s arms found their way around his neck and they pressed a light kiss on his cheek. Jehan’s lips were freezing and it sent a shiver down Montparnasse’s spine but he didn’t care. Not really. Not as long as he could keep them close for just a little longer.

Montparnasse drew back from their embrace and was met with deep brown eyes, glistering with pure joy. “You really did come.”

“Told you I would. You look cozy,” he added while fully taking in their appearance. Contrary to his own styling decisions, Jehan had actually had enough sense to dress themselves according to the weather. Their brown jacket was huge and soft and felt like a gigantic teddy bear. It made them look like one too. The thick yellow scarf that wound itself around their neck not less than three times and the red beanie they wore looked like they fulfilled their job at keeping his little poet warm as well.

“You don’t,” they answered, “you do realize we will be out here for a few more hours, right? You’ll catch a cold.”

Feeling even more foolish than before he said “Well, Feuilly promised me hot chocolate.” Jehan still looked at him with worried eyes, their forehead creased in thought.

“No, this just won’t do,” they murmured a few seconds later. Slowly they began to unwind the mess of a scarf around their neck just so they could tie it around his. The soft fabric piled up on his shoulders, a flash of yellow temporarily robbing him of his sight. 

Montparnasse hated yellow. He hated the brightness of it. The way it seemed to clash with everything, above all his complexion. He could only imagine how ridiculous he must have looked in that moment.

But he couldn’t deny the softness of the fabric. The warmth it was radiating. The smell of amber, jasmine and something so distinctly like Jehan it was harboring. Montparnasse breathed in deeply before he sank his cold nose deeper into the yellow monstrosity. “Thanks,” he mumbled. And maybe the huge grin he got in response was worth going against his personal style choices for once, he thought.

“Looking quite dapper, Mont,” interrupted an unpleasant voice, dripping with sarcasm. Reluctantly Montparnasse looked over to the man that had just joined them. With unruly curls and a shiteating grin, Grantaire looked just like Montparnasse remembered him. He could already feel a headache coming in.

“Doesn’t he just?” replied Jehan earnestly, apparently immune to Grantaire’s teasing nature.

Thankfully the other man spared Montparnasse of any more teasing and just handed over a thermos instead. Quickly Montparnasse unscrewed the lid and reveled in the sweet-smelling steam that hit his face. He took a tentative sip, careful as to not burn himself. When the hot liquid hit the back of his throat, he released an involuntary moan. There was nothing better than Feuilly’s hot chocolate. He quickly took another sip before handing the thermos over to Jehan. They must’ve been freezing as well.

By the looks of it however, they didn’t seem quite as cold as Montparnasse expected. A faint redness kissed their cheeks and they wouldn’t meet his eyes as they swallowed down a huge gulp of the hot chocolate. Seconds after Jehan grimaced slightly.

“Too hot?” Montparnasse asked.

“Huh? Oh no, just really sweet,” they mumbled.

“Would you have preferred tea?”

“Yeah, I think Rooibos would have been perfect for this occasion.”

Montparnasse nodded as if he knew what they meant by that. “I remember to bring some next time,” he said.

“Next time?” Jehan asked with that sweet smile back on their face. They snuggled closer to him and Montparnasse was pretty sure it wasn’t solely because of the cold.

“You won’t get rid of me that easily.”

“Okay,” chimed in another voice. Montparnasse had almost forgotten that Grantaire had been standing next to them the entire time. “I can’t take any more of this. You’re so toothrottingly sweet, it almost makes me sick. I’m gonna go and find my own boo. See you later.” 

With those words Grantaire was off and Montparnasse couldn’t say he minded.

It wasn’t long after that that the protest finally started. Unsurprisingly Enjolras was the one to start off the event. His speech was long and well-thought-out. He talked about love, equality and how everyone should be allowed to be who they were always meant to be. It was a good speech. The reaction of the people around him was telling enough. There were cheers and applause whenever Enjolras made a dramatic pause. Montparnasse wished he could say that he felt the same. He wished he could say that he was glued to Enjolras every word. But truth be told Montparnasse zoned out about five minutes into it. He couldn’t find it within him to have similarly enthusiastic reactions as the people around him.

It wasn’t that he didn’t care. He was queer, his friends were queer. Shit, the person he was dating was hella fucking queer. This was something that concerned all of them. Montparnasse just didn’t see the point in Enjolras presenting himself on a stage and giving a passionate speech. It wouldn’t change anything. People would still give him odd looks for wearing eyeliner and holding Jehan’s hand in public. But he also knew that this – these protests, this little justice club – was important to Jehan. So, he was present, because he wanted to be supportive. He wanted to be a good boyfriend.

And honestly, besides the cold, the rain and the mass of people around him it really wasn’t so bad. Nothing was, as long as he could snuggle up to Jehan and rest his head upon theirs. 

After an excruciating twenty minutes of listening to Enjolras babble his way through his speech, he finally left the stage. As Feuilly had mentioned, there were others that followed. A girl he had never seen before talked about growing up in a Christian household and how her parents had kicked her out after they found out she was trans. But she also talked about how freeing it was to no longer hide who she was, how her friends had helped her in this situation, how they became her family instead. She talked about how she met her wife, how she still sometimes wished that things could have been different but also about how she didn’t want to change a single thing about her life, because she had finally arrived at a point in her life where she felt truly happy.

Her story was drawing him in in a way that Enjolras’ impersonal speech wasn’t able to. Montparnasse couldn’t relate to her being trans or growing up Christian. He never dealt with internal self-hate and never truly felt like he lost his family. Truth be told he never felt awfully fond of any of the families he stayed with. Neither his birth parents nor anyone that came after. But that feeling that she described of her friends, the people she surrounded herself with becoming her family, her home. How in the grand scheme of things she was content. That was something he could relate to. He thought of Claquesous, Babet, Gueulemer, Éponine, her siblings and now – he realized – Jehan as well. All of them were his family. Subconsciously he found himself thightening his grip around Jehan. In return they squeezed his arm reassuringly, probably thinking along the same lines.

After the woman - Alodie - had ended her tale, a man stepped up on the stage. He didn’t share any personal stories but told about his work at the LGBT Youth Center, shared some resources and encouraged people to reach out to him or any of his co-workers if they felt troubled, unsafe or simply needed some advice. After he descended the stage, it was announced that there would be only one more person sharing her story before they would go over to the marching portion of the day. 

The woman that positioned herself in front of the microphone was one he recognized to be one of Jehan’s friends. Musichetta was her name, he believed. Montparnasse felt Jehan perch up the moment she appeared. 

“My situation is a bit different from most others that are present here today,” she started to say, “I’m a cis-gendered woman who is exclusively attracted to men. Now, you might wonder why I’m up here. What it is that I could have to tell you. You see, most girls are being told that one day they will find a nice boy they will fall in love with, they will get married, have 2.5 kids and all their heteronormative dreams will be fulfilled.” Some people laughed good-humoredly at that. “My mom was no different at that. She would always talk about my future partner, my future wedding. It was a fantasy I craved. And now years later, I’m in a happy relationship. The thing is just that I didn’t just fall in love with one incredible man. I fell in love with two. At the same time. And they also just so happen to love me and each other.”

She paused, her eyes drifting to the side undoubtedly looking at the two men she was referring to. With a small smile Musichetta continued. She talked about her family, their reactions, the cruel words they were throwing at her. The judgmental looks she would earn when she was out with her boyfriends and society’s expectations at what a relationship had to look like. 

“My entire life,” she concluded, “I was told to give love. To open my heart and let people in. And yet when I did, people started treating me as if I was doing something unspeakable. They called me a slut, a cheat, a whore and things far worse than that. And I’m just asking myself how is it that I know would I have introduced either of my boyfriends separately, my family would have accepted them with open arms. They would have congratulated me on what a handsome man I have at my side, what an adorable couple we make. How is it that I was told to give love, but just because I gave that love to two instead of one person that love is perceived as impure. As wrong. Why is it that my love is being treated like an indecency?” She sniffled slightly, her emotions clearly catching up with her. 

At that open display of emotions no other than Joly and Bossuet climbed the stage and engulfed her in a tight hug before kissing one of her cheeks each. She giggled happily at her lovers affection. The crowd cheered which made her giggle turn into a wholehearted laugh. And with matching grins of lovesick content all three of them exited the stage.

“That must have cost her a lot of courage,” Jehan stated. Montparnasse tightened his grip around their waist momentarily, his only indication that he was listening. Yet for Jehan that was enough. 

“I didn’t know her before she started dating Bossuet and Joly but from what I learned she used to be really close with her family. Now they won’t even look at her. She doesn’t really like to talk about it.”

Montparnasse hummed in understanding, not really sure what he could add to the conversation. 

Before he even had to chance to reply however, Enjolras had once again climbed the stage. This time he stayed only a few minutes to explain that were now going start marching. They were supposed to walk from the _Parc de la Butte-du-Chapeau-Rouge_ towards the _Place de la République_ where everyone would gather once again. It would take them about 45 minutes to walk that route which all things considered wasn’t the worst. But Montparnasse could feel the cold pierce his limbs and he wasn’t particularly looking forward to staying out any longer than necessary. He only hoped that walking would warm up his body a bit. 

He slowly untangled himself from Jehan, already missing the others body heat when people started to move closer to each other in order to form a united mass.

The crowd that had been spread out around the park just a few minutes ago, was now slowly closing in, making Montparnasse feel anxious and trapped. Despite being the owner of a club that took up dozens of people every night, he wasn’t actually a huge fan of crowds. No, scratch that. He absolutely hated them. Montparnasse usually made sure to keep people out of his personal bubble, so this wasn’t exactly pleasant.

He quickly snatched Jehan’s hand, not risking it to lose them among the mass. His grip must have been a bit harder than he had intended it to be because Jehan looked at him with worried eyes before moving closer. Their hand that wasn’t currently locked in his came up to rub his arm soothingly while they pressed a kiss to his shoulder. Montparnasse took comfort in their touch and briefly shut his eyes to regain control over his breathing. 

He took in a few slow breaths of air and willed his insides to calm down before pulling Jehan even closer to his side. 

“I’m here,” they mumbled into his shoulder, “we can leave if it gets too much.”

He nodded, grateful for the offer, but not willing to give into his anxieties that easily. 

“I’m fine,” he said eventually, “just stay close.”

And it really was fine. For about 15 minutes at least. 

Then – from one moment to another - everything erupted into chaos.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapter wasn't actually supposed to end here but it turned out way longer than I intended it to be, so I decided to split this chapter into two. Hopefully I'll be able to post the next chapter in the following days.
> 
> Also, I just wanted to quickly apologize for not posting in almsot a year. 2020 was not good to me and in all honesty I just couldn't get my ass up to continue working on this story. I also didn't want to post just anything for the sake of posting. I wanted to be actually satisfied with what I present to you. BUT - and that is very important to me - I want you guys to know that no matter how long it will take me to finish this, I have every intention to bring this story to an end. I won't disappear on you!
> 
> As always, I hope you enjoyed! Come talk to me on [tumblr](https://redasrevolution.tumblr.com/).

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so originally this was only supposed to be a short oneshot but then my brain went "but what if..." and well, what can I say? I'm now about 20k words into my first draft, so you're in for a ride. 
> 
> The line Jehan recites at the end of the movie is from Edna St. Vincent Millay's “And you as well must die” that you can find [here](https://www.sandiegoreader.com/news/2011/dec/07/poetry-and-you-well-must-die/#).
> 
> English is not my first language, so if you find any mistakes, feel free to correct me. If you want, you can also come talk to me on [tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/redasrevolution)! Hope you enjoyed and hopefully until next time!


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